We Are All on the Hero’s Journey

We Are All on the Hero’s Journey

I cried through the final episode of Stranger Things.

Not polite tears. Not a single moment that passed quickly. Deep, steady tears that surprised me because I realized I was not reacting to a show. I was reacting to something true.

And here is the important part. You do not need to have watched Stranger Things to understand why that ending lands.

The final moments are quiet. The danger is not fully gone. People stand in a place that looks like home, but it does not feel the same. They are alive. They are safe. And they are changed.

That moment mirrors real life far more than we like to admit.

Most of us spend a lot of energy bracing for the crisis. The hard conversation. The loss. The failure. The diagnosis. The moment everything shifts. But the crisis itself is rarely the hardest part.

The hardest part is what comes after.

When life keeps moving forward. When expectations return. When people assume you will slip back into the version of yourself they recognize, while internally you know that version no longer exists.

This is where the real work begins.

This is the heart of what Joseph Campbell spent his life studying. Across cultures, across centuries, he noticed the same pattern repeating itself. Ordinary people are pulled into experiences they did not ask for. They face fear, uncertainty, loss, and moments that break their old understanding of who they are.

If they survive, they return.

But they do not return the same.

The hero’s journey is often misunderstood as a story about bravery, victory, or triumph. In reality, it is a story about transformation. The journey does not end when the danger passes. It ends when the person decides how they will live with what the experience taught them.

Do I minimize it

Do I hide it

Or do I allow it to shape me

That decision is where many of us get stuck.

For a long time, I believed the world expected me to be the same person I was before my own life unraveled. The high achiever. The capable one. The version that felt familiar and acceptable.

But over time, I realized something uncomfortable and freeing at the same time.

The world was not demanding that of me.

I was.

This is what I call our hidden inner prisons.

They are not dramatic. They are quiet and convincing. They sound like responsibility. Stability. Not rocking the boat. They are built from old identities that once protected us but now limit us. They are reinforced by the fear that if we change too much, we might lose belonging, approval, or love.

So we perform familiarity.

We downplay growth.

We try to fold ourselves back into a shape that no longer fits.

In Stranger Things, no one tells the characters to return to normal. They pause because they know normal is gone. Once you have seen what you have seen, lived what you have lived, there is no going back. There is only integration.

Near the end, one character offers a simple speech. There is no strategy. No dramatic rescue. Just belief. He reminds someone of who they are when they have forgotten themselves.

That moment matters because it reveals the final step of the journey.

The hero does not just survive.

The hero brings something back.

Sometimes that gift is wisdom. Sometimes it is perspective. Sometimes it is the courage to say out loud what others are still afraid to name.

That realization reshaped how I see my own return.

Coming home after prison was not a reset. It was not a clean slate. It was a return carrying weight, responsibility, and insight I never asked for. I could have stayed quiet. I could have tried to blend in and rebuild privately.

But silence would have been another prison.

Sharing my story became part of my purpose, not because it is easy or comfortable, but because it has value. Not to explain myself. Not to justify the past. But to offer what I learned so others do not feel so alone in their own reckoning.

And this is the truth that sits at the center of all of this.

We are all heroes.

Not because we want to be. Because life invites us whether we are ready or not. Through change. Through discomfort. Through moments that demand we outgrow who we once were.

You do not need a dramatic story for this to apply to you. The hero’s journey shows up in quiet ways. A career shift that shakes your identity. A personal failure that forces humility. A season of loss that rewrites your priorities. A moment when you realize the old rules no longer work.

The hero’s journey is not about saving the world.

It is about refusing to shrink after being changed.

It is about having the courage to step out of the inner prisons that once kept you safe but now keep you small. It is about choosing honesty over performance. Growth over familiarity. Truth over comfort.

The real work is not what we survive.

The real work is who we allow ourselves to become afterward.

That is how we rise.

That is how we come back stronger.