What They Don't Tell You About Choosing Yourself First
The Unexpected Cost of Making Difficult Decisions
Tears streamed down my face as I walked back to my apartment. It was a little after 7 a.m., the air cool and damp, droplets of dew still suspended in the soft morning light. It was supposed to be a simple errand. Grab the newspaper and get back to what felt like a never-ending apartment hunt.
But there they were—hot, salty tears streaming relentlessly down my face, right there on a public street.
I’m a crier.
I’m not a crier.
Yes, I cry at puppy commercials, elopement videos, and protests against injustice. But crying over my own problems? That has proven to be more difficult. Likely a by-product of being shamed my entire life for expressing even a shred of emotion.
“I’m alone!”
The words spilled out, part exasperated cry, part startling realisation. It was a culmination of all the thoughts swirling in my mind that morning.
I’m alone meant…
More time to get lost in the pages of my favourite books. Spending Saturday mornings basking in the sun at the park. Complete freedom to decide where I wanted to go for breakfast. The chance to be exactly who I am in every moment.
But it also meant…
I was no longer at the top of anyone’s list to check in with daily. After a rough day, there was no pillow talk. Every emotional burden, every ounce of stress, was mine alone to carry.
No open arms were waiting for me to melt into when holding it all together felt impossible.
I missed the big spoon/little spoon. A hand resting on the small of my back. Forehead kisses that whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” I missed having a safe place to come undone, fall apart, and gather the strength to slay life’s dragons.
I need that.
How did I not prepare for this? But honestly, how could I have?
Sometimes, the right decisions have unexpected and unpleasant consequences. We all have to face this truth. The challenge is staying focused on how those difficult choices ultimately serve our highest good, even when the discomfort feels unbearable.
It meant realising, in the middle of my healing process, just how much I missed those “I’ve got you” moments. And accepting that this ache was the price of reclaiming my peace of mind.
Reflection:
What’s something you’ve learned about yourself during a time of transition?
How do you navigate moments when growth feels uncomfortable?
What has solitude taught you about yourself or your needs?
Share your thoughts in the subscriber-only chat—a safe space where we can connect, reflect, and grow together.👇🏽
Currently:
Feeling — Disoriented. The first two weeks of “back to work” have been filled with unexpected setbacks. It feels like my brain has several tabs open. Despite this, I’m practising to remain present and focused on what is within my control.
Reading — I just started More Than Enough by Elaine Welteroth. I heard somewhere that writing is a level down from reading, so I have added some memoirs to my reading list. I’m also reading a user manual about an art movement called atypography.
Listening — “The Untethered Soul” audiobook. This is my second time listening. I’m fascinated with the concept that we are not our thoughts, but the observer of our thoughts.
Anticipating — I start teaching pre-school art part-time this week. I’m looking forward to being back in the classroom with the children. I also have a playdate with one of my nephews this weekend.
Contemplating — Should I apply for jobs? I've laid the foundation for all my creative practices, and I’m committed to nurturing them. However, in the meantime, I still have goals and responsibilities. I’m grateful for the help from my family but I want to take concrete steps to regain my independence.
Affirming — All my needs will be provided for.
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As someone who has been hyper independent, I understand where you come from even though all the romantic gestures even the little/bare minimum is something I have read or seen on Tv and never experienced it. So I just always did it for me. Even in my past relationships (ages ago), my emotional burden had most of the time been mine. Hence, now I am vary of men who "like my independence and strength" and I rather be with a man who sees that it has been tough and give emotional support than one who gives me pat on back for being hyper independent. I think, it is okay to desire human connection in form of romance but at the same time it is important to remember that it is better to be single and find love in yourself than be in place where you are made to feel the most unloved person. I do think it is important to cry though.
this absolutely where i am right now. Thank you.