For as long as I can remember, I’ve been chasing the version of myself that lived in other people’s minds.
The one who was strong enough, dependable enough, unshakable enough.
The one who always had it together.
It’s wild how quietly that happens... how you start as yourself, messy and human, and then little by little you start bending. You bend to be more palatable, more reliable, more “good.” You silence the parts of yourself that are inconvenient, that are too loud, too emotional, too needy. And before you know it, you’re performing more than you’re actually living.
I’ve been living that way for years. Honestly? Decades.
And it has cost me.
It has cost me joy. It has cost me energy. It has cost me the chance to really know myself outside of other people’s expectations. And sometimes I wonder how much of my life has passed by while I was too busy trying to keep everyone else comfortable with who I was pretending to be.
But here’s the shift: I don’t want to live like that anymore. I can’t.
The rest of 2025 and into 2026 feels like a turning point. Like the moment where I finally look around and say, “Enough.” Enough of carrying the weight of everyone else’s vision of me. Enough of being the version of myself that leaves me burnt out and hollow. Enough of trying to earn love and acceptance by being smaller, quieter, or more agreeable than I actually am.
I want more. I need more.
And for once, “more” doesn’t mean hustling harder, proving myself louder, or climbing higher.
It means more joy. More honesty. More rest. More laughter with my family. More moments that don’t look impressive online but feel so damn good in my heart.
Because here’s the truth I’ve finally come to see: when I take care of me — really, deeply, unapologetically — my family gets the best of me too. They don’t need the exhausted, resentful, empty version of me who’s been stretched too thin trying to keep everyone happy. They need the real me. The present me. The joyful me.
So as I walk through the rest of 2025 and start looking toward 2026, this is my commitment:
✨ I’m choosing myself without apology.
✨ I’m allowing myself to be human — messy, emotional, imperfect.
✨ I’m putting joy and presence above performance and approval.
✨ I’m teaching my family that love doesn’t require losing yourself.
Will I get it all right? No. I’ll probably stumble, fall back into old habits, and second-guess myself a thousand times. But I’d rather stumble while learning how to live honestly than keep sprinting on the treadmill of being “enough” for everyone but myself.
I don’t want to look back ten years from now and realize I spent my entire life making myself smaller so other people could feel comfortable. I want to look back and know that I chose joy, that I chose truth, that I chose presence. That I chose me.
So here’s to the rest of 2025. Here’s to 2026.
Here’s to slowing down, showing up, and living a life that finally feels like mine.
And if you’ve ever felt this same ache — the pull between who you are and who you think you’re supposed to be — maybe this is your turning point too.
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