“I spent so much of my life loving and protecting everyone else. Today, I'm finally learning to hold the little girl inside me with that same love.”
— SuzyAnna ❤️
Yesterday started out fine.
Actually, I thought I was doing pretty well.
I have been healing. Growing. Learning to recognize my emotions, set boundaries and become more comfortable with the person I am becoming.
Then, little by little, the day began to chip away at me.
Someone made a comment about my body.
I responded, “Wow. Tell me you hate me without telling me you hate me.”
I tried to laugh it off.
But it hurt.
Then someone I considered a friend told me that her sister was going after a man she already knew I liked and had been talking to for months.
Her response was basically, “You're popular. You can get anyone.”
But that wasn't the point.
It wasn't about whether I could find another man.
It was about thinking, You knew how I felt. Why didn't my feelings matter enough for you to at least acknowledge them?
Then my mind started going through other relationships in my life.
I thought about the people who come to me when they're hurting.
The men who text when they need encouragement.
The people who need someone to tell them they're worthy.
The ones who need motivation.
The ones who need somebody to remind them of their potential.
And so often, I am that person.
I listen.
I encourage.
I remind them who they are.
I help them find their light again.
And then I started wondering:
Who does that for me?
When Everything Became Too Much
By the end of the day, I felt surrounded by negativity.
Then something seemingly small happened.
A coworker gave me a bracelet she had made. It had an evil eye on it, something I personally don't feel comfortable wearing.
She told me I needed to wear it on my left side and that I shouldn't take it off.
Something inside me immediately said, This doesn't feel right for me.
But I didn't want to be rude.
I didn't want to hurt her feelings.
So I wore it.
Looking back, I realize there was another lesson hiding in that moment.
Even when something made me uncomfortable, I was still thinking about someone else's feelings before my own.
When the day was finally over and I got home, everything I had been holding inside came crashing down.
My thoughts became frighteningly dark.
I started thinking that nobody loved me.
I questioned God.
I wondered whether He had left my side.
I wondered why, if God loved me, I seemed to keep suffering.
I even wondered whether I was simply here to be a vessel—to help His children find themselves while I continued hurting.
And then came the thought that scares me to admit:
Maybe I shouldn't be here anymore.
I wanted to hurt myself.
I cried.
I became angry with myself because I couldn't do it.
I even called myself a coward.
I didn't recognize myself.
Eventually, exhausted from everything I was feeling, I fell asleep.
Then my phone rang.
It was my friend.
“Get ready. We're going to church at five.”
So I got up.
And I went.
The Message I Needed
That day, the sermon was about sacrifice.
About how Christ gave His life for us without expecting anything in return.
About how choosing to follow God doesn't mean life will always be easy.
There will be suffering.
There will be sacrifice.
There will be moments we don't understand.
And sometimes we won't understand God's timing while we're living through the pain.
I cried.
Because something inside me remembered why I chose to become the person I am today.
I want people to see their worth.
I want someone who feels invisible to know that they matter.
I want someone who thinks they can't make it to realize that they can.
I want the things I've survived to become something that might help another person survive too.
Maybe my pain can have purpose.
But sitting there, I also began to understand something I had been missing.
Having a purpose does not mean I have to destroy myself fulfilling it.
Helping other people see their worth should never require me to forget mine.
I Need to Be Strong for Me, Too
I don't have to always be strong for everyone else.
I need to be strong for me, too.
I have spent so much time giving people my energy.
Listening.
Encouraging.
Motivating.
Seeing potential in people when they couldn't see it themselves.
And sometimes I watch them walk away feeling stronger while I am left alone dealing with what the relationship has taken from me.
Their words.
Their actions.
The hurt.
The disappointment.
The anger.
I help them shine and then quietly go home and try to find my own light again.
I'm exhausted.
And I can't keep doing that to myself.
My ability to see the good in someone does not make me responsible for fixing them.
My compassion does not mean everyone deserves unlimited access to me.
And being strong doesn't mean absorbing someone else's pain while pretending their actions don't hurt me.
Maybe I have already done everything I was meant to do for some people.
Maybe now it's their turn.
Their turn to heal.
Their turn to believe in themselves.
Their turn to recognize their own potential.
Their turn to take responsibility for their choices.
I don't have to keep reminding someone who they are meant to become.
Maybe it's finally my turn to take all that encouragement I've been giving away and give some of it back to myself.
For Once, I Need to Love Me First
Some people may read this and think:
How selfish of you.
But the truth is, I feel deeply.
I worry too much.
I care deeply.
I see potential in so many people, even when they can't see it themselves.
And because I see it, I want them to see it too.
So I give.
My time.
My encouragement.
My energy.
My heart.
I don't do those things because I expect repayment.
I do them because I love people.
But there is a difference between expecting repayment and wanting reciprocity.
I don't need someone to rescue me.
I don't expect someone to give me everything I've ever given them.
But I do need relationships where my emotions matter too.
Where somebody occasionally asks:
“Are you okay?”
“What do you need?”
“How can I be there for you?”
Because the person who encourages everyone else sometimes needs encouragement.
The person who sees everyone else's potential wants someone to see hers too.
And the person constantly saying, “You've got this,” sometimes needs someone beside her saying:
“I've got you.”
Maybe Ask Yourself: How Can I Be There for Suzy?
To the people I've encouraged, supported and believed in:
I wish you the very best.
May God bless you always.
Never forget that you have what it takes to become who you are meant to be and achieve the dreams inside of you.
Believe in yourself.
See your potential the way I have seen it.
But you don't need my constant validation.
You don't need me constantly reminding you that you're worthy, capable or strong.
Eventually, you have to believe those things for yourself.
For so long, I've been the person asking:
Are you okay?
What can I do?
How can I help?
Maybe, just once, ask yourself:
How can I be there for Suzy?
Not because I need you to save me.
Not because I expect you to fix my problems.
But because I have feelings too.
And if you cannot make room for those feelings, then maybe it's time for me to love you differently.
From a distance.
I can pray for you without carrying you.
I can wish you healing without participating in your chaos.
I can believe in your potential without being responsible for constantly reminding you that it exists.
I showed you what I see in you.
Now it's your turn to see it.
If Choosing Yourself Costs You Them
If you're reading this because you recognize yourself in my story, please hear me:
Don't be afraid to set boundaries because you're worried about hurting people who say they love you.
Pay attention to what happens when you finally say no.
If someone only wants you around when you're giving, listening, encouraging, validating or making their life easier—but becomes angry, disappears or makes you feel guilty when you finally need something too—that tells you something.
It doesn't mean you have to hate them.
It doesn't mean every memory was fake.
But their response to your boundary may show you what kind of relationship you actually had.
Sometimes you have to walk away.
You gave your heart.
You gave your love.
You gave your encouragement.
You did it because you cared.
That doesn't make you foolish.
And walking away when something begins destroying your peace doesn't make you cruel.
If choosing yourself costs you someone, perhaps the relationship only worked while you weren't choosing yourself.
Let that sink in.
Maybe they were comfortable with the version of you who never said no.
And maybe loving yourself means finally accepting that you cannot keep abandoning yourself just to prevent someone else from leaving.
Make Room for the Right People
Don't be afraid of being alone for a while.
The right people will show you they care through their actions.
They won't always be perfect.
They won't always know exactly what you need.
But they'll try.
They'll listen.
They'll make room for your emotions.
They won't need to drain your light in order for theirs to shine.
Maybe you're not simply losing people.
Maybe you're making room for the right ones.
People who value the love you have to offer.
People who celebrate your strength but make room for your vulnerability.
People who don't just come looking for you when they need someone to remind them of their worth.
They'll remember yours too.
Learn to be at peace with yourself.
Learn to enjoy your own company.
Learn that being alone doesn't mean you're unwanted.
And don't be afraid of the empty spaces created when you finally choose yourself.
You don't know who you haven't met yet.
You don't know what healthier friendships, relationships and opportunities may eventually fill those spaces.
Sometimes you have to make room for the right people.
And remember:
You are never truly alone.
What Happened After Church
After church, I finally told my friend everything.
I told her how dark my thoughts had become.
I told her about the bracelet and how uncomfortable I had felt wearing it.
She told me to take it off.
So I did.
And I felt relief.
I can't explain exactly why.
Maybe it was spiritual.
Maybe it was emotional.
Maybe removing it represented finally listening to myself after spending an entire day ignoring what I was feeling.
I don't need to have the answer.
What matters is that I finally listened to myself.
And then my friend did something I will never forget.
She thanked God for putting her in my path.
She thanked Him for protecting me and for not allowing me to hurt myself.
And she told me:
“Please call me when you feel like this.”
There it was.
The thing I had spent the entire day believing didn't exist.
Someone showing up for me.
To My Bestie, My Sister 💓
Thank you for not letting go.
Thank you for calling when I didn't even realize how badly I needed someone to call.
Thank you for saying, “Get ready. We're going to church,” and simply showing up.
Thank you for listening when I finally told you what had happened.
You didn't judge me.
You didn't make my emotions about you.
You didn't ask me to be strong.
You were simply there.
Yesterday reminded me that while I may need to walk away from some people, I also need to recognize and cherish the ones whose actions show me that they truly love me.
You showed up.
And sometimes that's all someone needs.
Thank you for reminding me that asking for help doesn't make me weak.
Thank you for reminding me that I don't always have to be the strong one.
Thank you for reminding me that I wasn't as alone as my mind was telling me I was.
I thank God for you too.
To my bestie, my sister—thank you for not letting go of me when I was struggling to hold on to myself. 💓
Today, I Choose Me
Yesterday scared me.
I'm not going to romanticize what happened.
I'm not going to pretend that reaching such a dark place was beautiful simply because something meaningful came afterward.
It wasn't beautiful.
It was frightening.
But I survived that moment.
And today I understand something I didn't understand yesterday.
I can help people without carrying them.
I can love people without losing myself.
I can forgive someone and still close the door.
I can pray for someone and still walk away.
I can believe in someone's potential without making it my responsibility to convince them of it every day.
And I don't have to always be strong for everybody else.
I need to be strong for me.
I love you all.
I genuinely wish you happiness.
I hope you heal.
I hope you recognize your worth.
I hope you accomplish every dream I told you I believed you could accomplish.
May God bless you and guide you always.
But I cannot keep giving away pieces of myself so everyone around me can shine while I go home and try to put myself back together.
I have spent enough of my life asking:
How can I love them?
How can I help them?
How can I make them see their worth?
Now I need to ask myself:
How can I love Suzy?
And maybe that's what this season of my life is trying to teach me.
Loving myself first doesn't mean I love everyone else less.
It means I finally stopped leaving myself out of the love I give so freely.
Yesterday I wondered whether God had abandoned me.
Today, I don't believe He did.
And maybe this isn't about being abandoned at all.
Maybe it's about finally learning that I don't have to abandon myself just to keep everyone else.
So I'm making room.
For peace.
For healthier love.
For people whose actions match their words.
For God.
And finally...
for me.
For once in my life,
I choose to love me first.
-Suzyanna
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