There is a little whisper many of us carry around. It tells us to go to the back of the line. Everyone else first.
Make sure they’re okay, they have what they need. Check the emails. Return the calls. Fix all the things. Remember the birthday. Schedule the appointment. Pick up the thing no one else remembered we were out of.
Then, if there is any time left, we might have a little time to tend to ourselves.
Maybe.
For many women, I think this runs especially deep. Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that our worth could be measured by how well we filled the cups of everyone around us. Be helpful, accommodating, available. Don’t be difficult. I mean, we wouldn’t want anyone to think of us as selfish, right? If this has never been you, I am virtually taking a bow before you.
Many of us became very good at putting ourselves last and calling it love.
And eventually, something happens. We burn out. We become tired, slide into insomnia. Maybe resentment creeps in and worse – bitterness takes a seat at the table. Not okay.
We may find ourselves frustrated with the very people we love, not necessarily because they demanded everything from us, but because we allowed ourselves to forget that we matter too.
That’s the part I think we need to talk about.
No Is a Complete Sentence
I know. Terrifying.
No.
Two letters. One syllable. No twelve-paragraph explanation. No carefully assembled PowerPoint presentation titled Why I Am Regretfully Unable to Meet Everyone’s Needs at This Time.
Just no.
“No” is not inherently rude. It is not unkind. It does not mean you love people less.
Sometimes saying no is what allows you to say a genuine yes later. And when you say no to someone else, you are also saying yes to yourself, which may be one of the most loving things you can do.
There May Be a Brief Adjustment Period
Here’s the slightly uncomfortable part.
As the old saying goes, we teach people how to treat us. If you have spent years being endlessly available, flexible, and willing to move your own needs to the bottom of the list, people may be a bit taken aback when you stop doing that.
They may ask questions or be genuinely disappointed. That does not automatically mean you are doing something wrong. It may simply mean the pattern has changed. And that is perfectly okay.
And patterns, from what I can tell, do enjoy being left exactly where they are.
You do not have to become confrontational. You do not need to storm into the living room and announce that a new regime has seized power. You can set boundaries lovingly.
You can say:
I can’t do that today.
I need some time for myself.
That doesn’t work for me.
You can be kind and loving but still have edges. The point is, you can care for others and not abandon yourself in the process.
Say Yes to Yourself
Like many, I spent decades balancing a high-pressure career where I was an employee and leader, and more importantly a mother, wife, friend, daughter, and overall, a person many others depended on.
I finally learned, later than I wish I had, that I could not continually show up as the person I wanted to be if I never made space for myself.
Aromatherapy became part of that space for me. So did mindfulness, yoga, meditation, time in nature, and small intentional rituals that helped me breathe, reset, and return to my life with more presence.
None of these things made my responsibilities disappear. The emails remained tragically committed to their mission. I mean, at one point I routinely had 8,000 unopened emails in my inbox. Yes, you read that right. (There was no climbing out of that black hole.)
Eventually, I began to understand that caring for myself was not a retreat from the people I loved. It was part of how I loved them.
And it was part of how I learned to love myself.
Stop Waiting for Permission
Maybe you have been waiting for life to calm down. For the kids to need you less. For work to become easier. For everyone else to be okay. For the house to be clean. For the inbox to be empty. Please. That one deserves its own fantasy genre.
Maybe you’ve been waiting for some imaginary authority figure to appear at your door, clipboard in hand, and announce:
Congratulations. You have officially done enough for everyone else. You may now care for yourself.
I have unfortunate news.
They’re not coming.
There is no permission slip. There is no gold star for running yourself into the ground. There is no prize for becoming so depleted that you no longer recognize yourself.
At some point, we have to choose differently. Not angrily. Not selfishly. Not as a rejection of the people we love.
But unapologetically, with love.
Take the walk. Close the door. Turn off the phone. Book the trip. Sit in silence. Use the good oil. Say no when you mean no. They can be disappointed. It’s okay.
It is possible to care for others and ourselves at the same time. But what we cannot do is abandon ourselves.
So no, the permission slip is not coming.
But you never needed it in the first place.
Take the space. It is yours.
