When I Became Enough…Choosing Me Part 2

A journey of discovery. A discovery of self. Pieces of old. Paired with pieces of new.

Lesson #2: When I Became Enough…Choosing Me Part 2

“I will not apologize for choosing myself this time: self-love is the chapter I’ve always wanted to write.”

As I’ve grown older, my perspective on life—and my place in it—has shifted in ways I never saw coming.

Being the oldest of five, I naturally stepped into the role of the “perfect” eldest child. Responsible. Empathetic. A caretaker. A perfectionist. And perhaps most defining of all… a people pleaser.

For most of my life, I truly believed that putting others first was the right thing to do. That being selfless somehow equaled being lovable. That if I could make everyone else happy, I’d feel fulfilled too.

But after spending the last decade on my own, I’ve come to understand a much harder truth: people pleasing might leave others satisfied, but it often leaves me feeling empty. Unheard. Disappointed in myself. Like I betrayed the very person I’m supposed to be loyal to. Me.

That’s not the life I want anymore.

Some might ask, “WTF took you so long? Seventy years? And you’re just now figuring this out?” And as wild as it may sound, my answer is a resounding YES.

Yes. It took me this long.
Yes. I stayed stuck in old cycles far longer than I should have.
Yes. I kept running on a hamster wheel of approval and expectation.

But here’s what I know now:
It’s. Never. Too. Late.

It’s never too late to rewrite your story.
To choose yourself.
To find joy that doesn’t rely on applause or permission.

So I’m starting now.

At 70, I am choosing happiness—not the kind that depends on validation or fitting into someone else’s mold, but the kind that comes from making choices that align with who I am. From honoring what feels right in my soul. From trusting that I deserve a life rooted in peace and self-respect.

This isn’t about being selfish.
It’s about finally, finally recognizing that my needs. My voice. And my well-being matter just as much as anyone else’s.

For most of my life, I followed the rules. I was the “good girl.” The peacekeeper. The one who didn’t rock the boat. I carried the weight of not wanting to disappoint others—believing that if I did, I’d somehow be unworthy of love.

That belief shaped everything.
My relationships.
My marriage.
My role in the family.

I convinced myself that if everyone else was happy, I’d find happiness too. But instead, I ended up drained. Unseen. And honestly? A little broken.

Eventually, life forced me to ask the harder questions. And the answers weren’t easy. But they were clear.

Following the rules to keep the peace? It wasn’t working anymore.
Choosing myself came with consequences, yes. But I was finally ready to face them.

The details don’t really matter. What matters is this: to me, family means showing up. Through the highs. And the lows. Through love. And hardship. Supporting each other, even when life doesn’t fit neatly into a box.

I will no longer punish myself for being true to who I am. I will no longer shrink to make others comfortable. If someone can’t offer love, respect, and support without strings attached, then I’m stepping away.

Because here’s the hard truth:
You don’t abandon the people you love when things don’t go your way.
You don’t exile them for choosing themselves.
That’s not love. That’s control.

The reality is—we just see the world differently.
To me, LOVE is LOVE. Without conditions. Without judgment. Without expectations.

And I will no longer stay in spaces where love is transactional.

Not with family.
Not with friends.
Not with anyone.

Life is too short to keep living a version of it that doesn’t feel like mine.

So I’m choosing me.
And for the first time in my life…
That choice feels like freedom.