Deflection cloaked in care.
The noble dodge. The empath’s reflex. The world’s most practised disappearing act:
“I do not know what I want… but here are 47 things I hope for everyone else.”
To be excruciatingly clear: Caring for yourself does not cancel out the people you love.
It is not a betrayal of them, nor is it arrogance.
It is oxygen.
Wanting to do more than survive is not selfish, and being exhausted from being selfless is not chic.
We are allowed to want.
To crave and to desire. To scream into a pillow that being tolerably okay is not the same as being at peace or in delight or freaking radiant.
We may not have asked for much, not because we did not want anything— but because we were taught not to.
And it is okay if reaching out now feels itchy, unnatural, or bratty. But understand that it is none of these things
It is the next level of healing. It is whispering to the universe:
“Okay. I have proven I can survive. Now teach me how to thrive.”
The internal shoulder-shrug of resignation masked as gratitude is a survival masterpiece.
“What I have is really not all that bad.”
It is the well-rehearsed whisper of someone who has always made sure to be small, to not need, to never be too much trouble.
And it is noble. But it is not freedom.
