Living Life on My Own Terms

I spent a long time trying to be what everyone else expected. Trying to be easy to love, easy to manage, easy to understand. I followed the rules. I checked the boxes. I stayed quiet when I should’ve spoken. I said “yes” when I meant “no.” I tried so hard to make other people comfortable that I forgot what comfort even felt like in my own skin.

Eventually, something inside me snapped, not loud or dramatic, just a quiet “this isn’t it.”

I started questioning everything.
Not in a pretty, romantic “find yourself” way.
It was uncomfortable. Messy. Lonely at times.

But it was mine.

Living life on my own terms means unlearning years of pressure to perform. It means disappointing people who built a version of me that was easier for them to accept. It means letting go of the need to be understood, and choosing instead to be real.

I don’t have it all figured out, and I’m not perfect, not even close.
But I know this: I’d rather walk an uncertain path that feels honest than keep walking a straight one that slowly kills me.

I’ve changed my mind. I’ve started over. I’ve failed. And I’ve learned to be okay with that.
I’ve learned that growth doesn’t always look like forward motion. Sometimes it looks like rest. Sometimes it looks like leaving. Sometimes it looks like saying “no more.”

Letting go of what didn’t serve me wasn’t easy.
Ending friendships that felt one-sided.
Saying goodbye to relationships that chipped away at who I was.
Pulling away from anything that made me feel small.

And when it comes to relationships, I’ve reached a point where I no longer abandon myself to keep the peace. I’ve learned that love without respect isn’t love, and connection without emotional safety isn’t worth holding onto. I’m no longer available for dynamics that make me question my worth or walk on eggshells to be understood. I’ve spent enough time trying to prove I’m trustworthy, loyal, kind… only to be met with distance, suspicion, or blame. That kind of emotional tug-of-war isn’t love. I want ease. I want depth. I want mutual effort, not one-sided repair. I won’t stay in spaces where I feel more unseen than held. From now on, if it costs me my voice, my peace, or my self-respect, my mental/physical health… I’m out.

But peace doesn’t come without cost. And I’m finally willing to pay it.

I’ve stopped explaining myself to people who only listen to respond.
I’ve stopped giving energy to things that leave me drained.
I’ve started building a life that actually feels like mine, even if no one claps for it.

I don’t need to be “successful” in the way others define it.
I don’t need every dream to make sense on paper.
I don’t need to prove my worth by how much I do or how well I endure.

I need to feel alive in the life I’m living. That’s it.

Yes, I still have doubts.
I still get tired of swimming against the current.
And some days I grieve the version of me that made things easier for everyone else.

But I’d rather live messy and honest than tidy and hollow.
This is the only life I get, and I want to look back knowing I didn’t shrink to fit into spaces that were never made for me.

So here’s to walking away.
Here’s to building something slower, deeper, more intentional.
Here’s to choosing authenticity over acceptance.
Here’s to not having all the answers, and still choosing to show up anyway.