It''s On Me

Who are you—really? Beneath the roles, labels, and expectations, do you know who you are when everything else falls away? In It’s On Me, existential psychotherapist Sara Kuburic challenges you to take radical responsibility for your life and the task of being your Self. She argues that most of our contemporary suffering—our anxiety, emptiness, indecision, and disconnection—stems from what she calls self-loss: the failure to embody and live as our authentic being. Kuburic contends that rediscovering and continually creating your Self is not just an act of healing, but the very essence of being human.

She shares her own story of existential crisis and transformation—from a young woman enduring the aftermath of war, a failed marriage, and a panic attack in an airport—to an existential therapist who teaches others how to reclaim themselves. Kuburic’s guiding insight is simple yet profound: you are responsible for your existence. Nobody else can or will do it for you. In every moment, you are faced with the task of choosing, reflecting, and acting in alignment with who you are. Her book is therefore a map for that ongoing journey of becoming your Self.

The Pain of Self-Loss

Kuburic paints a devastatingly familiar picture of self-loss, the condition of living a life that doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. Through a vivid metaphor—a person sitting in a burning room pretending everything is fine—she illustrates how we ignore inner alarm bells. We keep fulfilling roles, meeting obligations, and maintaining appearances, even as the flames of anxiety and emptiness creep closer. Self-loss is not just psychological; it’s existential. It’s a quiet, smothering disconnection from our essence, from meaning, and from inner alignment. Kuburic defines self-loss as estrangement from one’s true Self, a failure of responsibility and authenticity.

This pain echoes in her clinical work. Clients like Alex, whose days revolve around social media, work performance, and external validation, show how modern routines reinforce our estrangement. We live from the outside in—defined by what others want to see rather than who we feel we are. Self-loss, Kuburic warns, is not rare; it’s almost a universal human condition. Yet she insists that while it’s common, it’s not inevitable. Healing begins when we stop denying the fire and choose to stand up.

Freedom, Responsibility, and Choice

The philosophical foundation of Kuburic’s work rests in existentialism (drawing from thinkers like Kierkegaard, Sartre, Heidegger, and Frankl). She argues that human beings are condemned—and privileged—to be free. You exist first, and through your choices, you define what you are. Sartre described authenticity as owning the weight of freedom; Kuburic translates that concept into practical responsibility. Every decision, even inaction, shapes the Self you become. There are no external structures capable of defining your identity, meaning, or purpose for you. You must make those choices, again and again.

She distinguishes between essentialism—the idea that you were born with a fixed essence—and existentialism—the belief that you create your essence through living. Kuburic sides with the latter. You don’t find your Self like lost keys; you build your Self through awareness, intention, and responsibility. To live authentically is to create congruence between your thoughts, emotions, and actions. To live inauthentically, or to lose your Self, is to relinquish that responsibility and let life happen to you instead of through you.

The Existential Task of Meaning

Kuburic urges you not just to ask Who am I? but also Why am I here? Drawing on Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, she frames meaning as the “why” that sustains every “how.” Meaning is both a gift and a task—to be discovered through creation, experience, and attitude. You don’t wait for meaning to find you; you create it through participation in life. This reframing—“What is life asking of me?”—changes the relationship between you and existence. Instead of viewing life as a question you must answer, you become the one asking the questions back: “How will I respond?”

Meaning connects to the Self because it invites commitment and direction. Without meaning, even privilege, success, or comfort feel empty. But when you live with purpose and inner consent, each experience—joy, grief, desire, or pain—adds depth to your being. Kuburic challenges readers to identify and face the truths of their lives that call for transformation: the choices that need to be made, the truths that need acknowledgment, and the boundaries that need strengthening.

Self as Ongoing Creation

Ultimately, Kuburic dismantles the idea that identity is something you find once and keep forever. She sees the Self as a painting continually in progress. With each brushstroke—a decision, loss, or revelation—the image evolves. You cannot return to who you were; you can only become more of who you are now. Even pain, she says, plays a generative role. It signals unmet truth and pushes transformation. In her own story, a panic attack was the catalyst for an existential awakening. Facing suffering, instead of resisting it, becomes the gateway to wholeness.

Kuburic’s philosophy carries both comfort and challenge: there is no quick fix or static end state of happiness. But there is a life of continuous freedom, meaning, and resonance—a life you can feel in every moment. The reward for daring to be your Self is, quite simply, you.

Core Message

To be your Self is to accept radical responsibility for existence—to stop enduring your life and start living it. Every choice is an act of creation. Every moment is an invitation to authenticity. And no one—not society, not family, not fate—can do it for you. It’s on you.

Kuburic’s concept of self-loss is the beating heart of her book—a way of describing what happens when we become detached from who we truly are. It’s the moment when our reflection in the mirror feels alien, and our daily life feels like a performance rather than participation. Self-loss is both subtle and pervasive: it creeps through routine, compliance, and avoidance until we wake up realizing we don’t remember when we last felt alive.

How Self-Loss Manifests

Kuburic categorizes self-loss into five interconnected domains—emotions, body, relationships, inner consent, and meaning. Emotionally, we either suppress our feelings or drown in them because we’ve lost our grounding. Physically, we misuse or ignore our bodies, treating them like trophies or tools rather than living parts of our Self. In relationships, we remain stuck in unhealthy dynamics, confusing obligation or validation for love. Inner consent—the practice of saying “yes” to our life, choices, and values—is absent, leaving us feeling like spectators instead of participants. And without these layers, meaning itself collapses, replaced by emptiness.

Her burning-room metaphor illustrates how denial perpetuates this cycle. We might be aware that something is wrong—that our soul feels “smoky”—but instead of extinguishing the fire, we busy ourselves with superficial fixes: more work, more distractions, more scrolling. In that deliberate avoidance, we slowly burn. According to Kuburic, this lack of awareness is not accidental; it’s a choice we make daily, whether knowingly or not.

What Causes Self-Loss

Three causes recur throughout Kuburic’s work: life-altering events, modeled behaviors, and self-betrayal. Trauma, grief, or transitions can sever our connection to the Self, especially when our identity is anchored in external roles—like being a spouse, parent, or professional—and those roles collapse. Family rules and cultural expectations reinforce conformity, coercing us to be “good” rather than authentic (echoing Carl Jung’s warning that “the world will tell you who you are if you don’t know”). Finally, self-betrayal occurs in relationships or situations when we repeatedly choose others’ approval over our truth. Each “yes” that means “no” erodes the integrity of the Self.

Examples from Kuburic’s clients bring these causes to life. Camilla, a lawyer raised under strict family rules, felt guilty for disagreeing with her parents even as her adult self wanted freedom. Naomi, who stayed in a toxic relationship for years, learned that her generosity without boundaries was a form of self-betrayal. Each learned that reclaiming the Self meant facing the pain of lost identity—and the courage to start over.

From Victim to Agent

An important turning point in Kuburic’s theory is moving from seeing yourself as the victim of self-loss to the agent of recovery. She acknowledges that trauma, family patterns, and cultural oppression are real causes, but insists that awareness and honesty restore responsibility. The Self cannot be given; it must be claimed. Kuburic emphasizes three prerequisites for reclaiming Self—awareness (seeing the truth), honesty (accepting it), and safety (feeling secure enough to bear it). Without safety, truth crushes rather than heals. This is why therapy, art, and trusted relationships often become the space where individuals can hold truth long enough to integrate it.

The Fire as Transformation

Kuburic reframes loss as both destruction and opportunity. Like fire, it can annihilate or purify, depending on how you respond. Self-loss offers atonement—the chance to forgive yourself for neglecting who you are—and transformation. When we finally look at what burned, we learn to rebuild with awareness. “Lost,” she writes, “is a beautiful place where you can feel unrestricted and uninhibited.” In losing our way, we find freedom to start anew. The first step is acknowledgment; the reward is authenticity.

Essential Takeaway

Self-loss is not failure—it’s feedback. It signals misalignment between your life and your being. Facing it is painful, but it’s the same pain that can wake you up to your freedom to choose differently. The burn is your beginning.

For Kuburic, authenticity is not simply “being yourself”—it’s the practice of taking full ownership of who you’ve become and who you are still becoming. The Self, she says, is constructed through freedom, choice, and responsibility. You exist first, and then you decide what meaning that existence will have. “To be free,” Sartre wrote, “is to be condemned to be free.” Kuburic translates that philosophical truth into practical life: there is no escape from responsibility. Even avoidance is a choice that carries consequences.

Freedom Within Constraints

Freedom sounds liberating until you realize its inverse: responsibility. You are free to act, but not free from the outcomes of your actions. Kuburic echoes Viktor Frankl in reminding readers that even within constraint—trauma, illness, or circumstance—you possess the “freedom to take a stand toward the conditions.” This means your response is still yours. You cannot always change life, but you can always choose your attitude toward it. In these moments, meaning becomes a form of resistance.

Kuburic invokes Kierkegaard’s idea that we balance necessity (the givens we cannot change) and possibility (the future we can shape). You are born into circumstances—your family, body, culture—but you also hold infinite potential for meaning, creation, and transcendence. To be your Self means straddling both ends with awareness: to accept the unchangeable while choosing how to live within it.

Bad Faith and Self-Deception

One of Kuburic’s most powerful insights comes from Sartre’s concept of bad faith—the act of denying your own freedom and pretending you’re trapped. You might say, “I can’t change because of my trauma” or “I have to be who my family expects.” But these are self-deceptions. As Kuburic puts it, “Sometimes when we try to run away from the pain of nothingness, we self-inflict the pain of being something we are not.” Bad faith is the ultimate form of self-loss: acting like a caricature in someone else’s story instead of the author of your own.

Her example of a man who stayed in a marriage out of obligation rather than love captures this imprisonment perfectly. He chose responsibility without resonance, and thus lived against himself. Authenticity, in contrast, demands inner consent—a deep “yes” to your life and actions that feels like internal harmony. It’s a sensation, a grounded knowing that your choices align with your values and being.

Inner Consent and Resonance

Kuburic describes inner consent as a continuous practice, not a one-time oath. It’s checking in with yourself: Do I agree with the life I’m living? Do I stand behind the person I see in the mirror? This resonates with Heidegger’s notion of Eigentlichkeit—“own-ness” or ownership of one’s existence. Authentic living means inhabiting your life with authorship and attunement. You may still make mistakes, but they will be your mistakes, informed by freedom rather than fear.

Authenticity as an Ongoing Task

Kuburic warns against romanticizing “authenticity” as indulgent self-expression. Instead, she defines it as responsibility in action. Each choice modifies who you are, and authenticity is the alignment between those actions and your truth. Who you are will continually evolve—you are unfathomable, fluid like water rather than rigid like stone. The virtue lies in showing up consistently in alignment, not in permanence. For her, every moment asks you to decide and become anew. Authenticity, then, is an art form rooted in discipline, honesty, and courage.

Essential Takeaway

Freedom is beautiful—but it’s heavy. The only way to lighten it is through authenticity: to respond to life with your full Self. You are responsible for who you are, always, because you are free—always. Inner consent turns freedom from burden into meaning.

Kuburic argues that meaning is not a luxury or abstraction—it’s the core structure that allows human beings to endure existence. Without meaning, we either live in despair or numbness. She asks, “What is life asking of you?” Moving beyond clichés about finding purpose, she reframes meaning as a dialogue between you and life itself: a constant exchange between your freedom and the world’s conditions.

Meaning as Participation

Meaning emerges only through participation—through action, creation, and presence. It’s the “why” behind the “how.” In existential analysis, meaning includes not only grand objectives but everyday experiences that resonate. A conversation, a moment of beauty, laughter with friends—all affirm your being. Without participating, life flattens into mechanical survival. Kuburic affirms that existence asks for engagement: to act, to feel, to show up, to be touched by the world.

She draws on Viktor Frankl’s lessons from concentration camps: even in suffering, humans retain the freedom to choose their attitude. That freedom is the spark of meaning. Meaning comes alive through three pathways—creating work or deeds, experiencing something or someone, and choosing attitude in suffering. It’s not found; it’s forged in response to life.

Facing Meaninglessness

Our modern obsession with comfort and productivity, Kuburic says, has made us allergic to discomfort and thus to meaning. Modern “self-help” promises happiness without struggle; yet true meaning involves tension, difficulty, and continual questioning. She cites Frankl’s warning against pursuing equilibrium—humans don’t need calm; we need purposeful tension. This discomfort—the gap between what we have and what we desire—is the engine that drives existence.

Kuburic recounts how even in her own despair, sitting in an airport panic attack, meaning appeared as necessity. She realized she was willing to change everything because nothing was worth living without authenticity. That moment made her confront mortality; the insight that she might die without truly having lived. Through the burst of terror came the seed of transformation: her “why.”

Creating Personal Meaning

Kuburic encourages you to make meaning a daily creation rather than an existential quest. Ask “What is life asking of me right now?” instead of “What’s the meaning of life?” That subtle shift directs your attention to actionable purpose. Meaning is contextual: in one moment, it may involve your relationships; in another, your art, body, or community. It’s fluid and deeply personal. Meaning expands through responsibility and contracts through avoidance.

Her practice reflects this philosophy. She invites clients to examine their day-to-day alignment and notice their sense of vitality. Activities that evoke aliveness—conversation, nature, creativity—are where meaning lives. As Nietzsche said, “He who has a why can bear almost any how.” Kuburic transforms this idea into an instruction: discover your why through living, not searching. Meaning blossoms only when you respond to life’s invitation to be.

Essential Takeaway

Don’t wait for life to hand you purpose. Meaning is a verb, not a noun—it’s created through participating, feeling, and responding. Every choice carries potential for significance if you live it deliberately.

Where do you end and others begin? For Kuburic, boundaries are not just relational tools but existential outlines of the Self. They communicate who you are to the world—they’re your silhouette in space, defining where your autonomy begins. Without boundaries, we blur into others’ expectations and lose the shape of our being.

Boundaries as Identity

Kuburic reframes boundaries as a form of self-expression. When you articulate what you will or will not do, you’re saying “This is who I am.” Boundaries are living reflections of your values, needs, and beliefs. They’re not ultimatums, but frames that nurture authenticity and safety in relationships. “Boundaries are our love language,” she writes; they teach others how to treat us by showing them how we treat ourselves.

Through her own story—establishing boundaries with family and social expectations—Kuburic demonstrates that clarity begins with conviction. You can’t outline a shape you don’t know. Thus, boundary-setting requires deep self-understanding. Setting random, rigid boundaries without knowing your truth becomes performative rather than protective, a reaction rather than reflection.

Overcorrection and Flexibility

In the aftermath of self-loss, people often overcorrect. They set extreme boundaries out of fear, becoming rigid and closed. One client, after years of poor boundaries, ended a relationship because her partner texted during visiting hours with her mother. Though well-intentioned, her rule became armor rather than empowerment. Kuburic distinguishes this from healthy flexibility—boundaries should evolve with context and relationship. Fluid boundaries reflect the evolving Self; static ones imitate control.

Violations of boundaries trigger resentment, but deeper beneath that emotion is existential fear: the sense that our Self has been disrespected. Kuburic urges readers to reflect on how they respond when boundaries are crossed. Do you distance, overact, attack, or freeze? These responses mirror how the Self tries to protect its existence.

Reflexive vs. Conscious Boundaries

Kuburic outlines four reactive boundary patterns—distancing, overactivity, aggression, and freezing. Each is an instinctual defense: walking away, working harder, lashing out, or numbing. They reveal how pain distorts our self-protection. Conscious boundaries, in contrast, are intentional and aligned; they stem from awareness of who you are and the context you’re in. Before setting any boundary, Kuburic recommends asking: Why am I setting this? Does it honor my Self and promote well-being? What consequences will follow if it’s crossed?

Healthy boundaries require both attunement and courage. They reflect respect, not resistance. When practiced responsibly, they not only protect you—they define you.

Essential Takeaway

Setting boundaries is a spiritual act of self-definition. They are not barriers but mirrors of the Self. Learn to draw them with awareness, adjust them with compassion, and guard them with authenticity.

Kuburic warns that self-loss is not only personal—it’s systemic. Society trains us to conform, perform, and seek external validation from an early age. We become “good girls” and “good citizens,” rewarded for obedience rather than authenticity. Through stories of clients like Sam, she illustrates how cultural, religious, and familial norms perpetuate self-loss across generations.

The “They” of Society

Borrowing from Heidegger, Kuburic discusses the danger of the “they”—the collective social voice that tells you who to be. Society often offers relief from responsibility by prescribing identity: the perfect employee, parent, or believer. When you surrender to “they,” you outsource self-definition and avoid existential freedom. The cost is authenticity. The task, Kuburic says, is to reclaim authorship: “We must make up for not choosing.”

The societal “good” is often moral masquerade. Sam, raised to be a “good girl,” equated worth with self-sacrifice. Her goodness was survival; her silence made others comfortable. When she finally said no—to staying late at work—she realized the world didn’t collapse. It was her first taste of agency. Kuburic celebrates such moments as revolutionary acts of Self.

Attention, Appreciation, and Justice

To counter society’s influence, Kuburic offers three prerequisites for a healthy sense of Self: attention (being truly seen), appreciation (being valued for who you are rather than for usefulness), and justice (being treated fairly by yourself and others). When these are absent, self-worth becomes contingent on approval and performance. True attention means attunement, not mere notice—as in being known, not viewed. Appreciation means valuing intrinsic humanity. Justice means offering yourself the same compassion and standards you offer others.

Resistance, Isolation, and Grief

Breaking from the “they” invites discomfort. Kuburic outlines three forms of backlash: resistance (others push against your new boundaries), isolation (authenticity separates you from those unwilling to understand), and grief (mourning past versions of yourself and lost relationships). Transformation costs connection—but what remains becomes deeper and truer. This process echoes Rollo May’s idea that courage in authenticity demands standing “against culture.”

Kuburic advises patience with others and compassion for yourself. Change always unsettles the status quo, and grieving old versions of Self is natural. Every loss creates space for genuine relationships aligned with who you’ve become.

Essential Takeaway

Society rewards performance, not presence. Authenticity will often be met with resistance, but each authentic choice reclaims your Self from the “they.” Attention, appreciation, and justice start within—and ripple outward.

In her closing chapters, Kuburic brings theory to practice—showing how we live the Self we’ve rediscovered. She calls this the art of being: treating existence as a creative act. Being your Self means telling truth, setting boundaries, feeling deeply, and turning toward rather than away from life. The task is no longer searching for who you are, but practicing being who you are.

Embodiment and Awareness

She teaches embodiment exercises—like listening to your body’s wisdom, dancing, breathing, or simply noticing sensations—to reconnect physical and spiritual selves. Your body is not a vessel to transcend; it is part of your Self. Kuburic describes the body as your “general medium for having a world” (echoing Merleau-Ponty)—it’s how you experience existence. Healing comes when you stop treating your body as enemy or object and start seeing it as collaborator.

Kuburic also encourages “mental decluttering”: letting go of expectations, habits, relationships, and beliefs that no longer serve you. Like removing physical clutter, mental minimalism creates space for freedom. Each release allows greater presence. Letting go becomes the act that enables being.

Feeling and Turning Toward Life

Emotions, Kuburic says, are the inner movement of our Being. Feeling them fully—without judgment—is how you participate in life. The goal isn’t control but awareness. Observing emotions helps you discern what values they reflect. Every feeling reveals what matters to you; they are messengers of meaning. Suppressing feelings distances you from yourself. She advocates “turning toward” life—facing discomfort, sadness, or beauty openly. When you do, life touches you back. This reciprocity between being and experiencing is the foundation of authenticity.

Phenomenological Awareness

In a striking final therapy scene, Kuburic guides her client Claire to connect with a simple chair—inviting her to ask what the object feels, says, and means. Through this exercise, Claire realizes she never trusts support, physically or emotionally. This is phenomenological awareness: engaging deeply and consciously with what appears around you to uncover inner truths. Everyday experiences become mirrors. Everything can teach you who you are if you pay attention. Being your Self becomes art—an ongoing dialogue with existence.

Kuburic closes with a metaphor: the burning-room scene returned, but this time, the person stands up and puts out the fire. To live consciously is to keep choosing awareness—to notice the ember before it grows. Existence is fragile and radiant; your task is to keep showing up, choosing authenticity over endurance. The house does not have to burn. You can live it.

Essential Takeaway

Being your Self is not a destination—it’s a daily creation. Live deliberately. Feel fully. Act with inner consent. Every moment of awareness builds your existence. The art of being is the art of living awake.