For a long time, I found myself prioritizing everyone else above my own needs. I gave and gave, even when I had nothing left to give. I was pouring from an empty cup, running on fumes, hoping someone would notice I needed a refill. But when the time came—when I needed someone, anyone—to simply listen, to share a laugh, or to brighten my day, I realized the harsh truth: there was no one.
That realization hit me hard. It left me feeling hollow and questioning everything.
I started to pull back, retreating into myself, convinced that I was the problem. The process was messy—a rollercoaster of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. But amidst the chaos, I began listening to me. For the first time, I allowed myself to feel without the noise of other people’s opinions, criticism, or expectations clouding my judgment. I began to pay attention to my emotions and unpack what was truly mine versus what had been projected onto me.
When I encountered feelings I didn’t like—whether it was fear, guilt, or self-doubt—I did something I’d never done before: I questioned them. I dissected them, tracing their roots back to the source.
• Who or what taught me to feel this way?
• When did I start carrying this weight, and why?
• Whose lack of self-love or compassion influenced me to think this was normal?
This process wasn’t easy. Confronting the programming that had shaped my thoughts and behaviors was like peeling back layers of armor I’d worn for so long, I forgot I had it on. But the more I understood the “why” behind my pain, the freer I felt.
Then came the hardest part: rebuilding.
I started creating healthier habits and, most importantly, setting firm boundaries to protect my mental well-being. Let me tell you—those boundaries? They came with a side of guilt. At times, they felt isolating, even selfish. But every step of the journey was worth it.
For the first time, I wasn’t giving away pieces of myself to make others whole. Instead, I was pouring love into me, filling my own cup first. And in doing so, I met a version of myself I didn’t even know existed. A version I didn’t think I’d ever deserve to meet.
Reprogramming yourself isn’t easy. Loving yourself through every messy, evolving version of you is even harder. There were days I wanted to give up, to fall back into old patterns. But then I felt the magic—the power of choosing myself—and I couldn’t turn back.
This journey taught me something profound:
You must love yourself first.
You must show up for yourself before you can show up for anyone else.
And you must be the best version of you—not for them, but for you.
The path to healing isn’t always pretty. But it’s transformative, liberating, and oh-so-worth it.
So, if you’re battling you vs you right now, know this: you’re not alone. Keep choosing yourself, keep breaking down those walls, and keep pouring into your own cup. The love and light you seek will start within—and it will radiate outward in ways you never imagined.
Love and Light
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