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Hi love, 

I remember you. The one who kept saying yes… even when everything inside you wanted to say no.

The one who agreed to one more thing - one more call, one more favour, one more moment of being available - even though your body was aching for quiet. Even though you were tired in the kind of way that sleep couldn’t fix.

You didn’t know how to say no yet. Not really. Not without guilt flooding in. Not without the fear of disappointing someone… or worse, losing them.

I get it now.

Back then, your safety was tied to being helpful. Being needed and being nice. So you kept showing up, even when it cost you parts of yourself.

And that breaks my heart a little. Not because you were wrong. But because I know how long you believed love was something to be earned through self-abandonment.

You didn’t know your energy was sacred. That your joy mattered. That you could still be deeply kind and still say: “No, not right now.”

But I know that now.

And even though I still catch myself slipping into those patterns sometimes - over-giving, over-explaining, overextending - I come back quicker. I notice it sooner, and I stop apologising for needing space.

I say no now. Not always easily. But more often.

And every time I do, I feel like I’m choosing us. Choosing you.

Not as the one who kept giving herself away… but as the one who’s finally coming home.

You didn’t fail by being generous.

You just didn’t know there was another way.

But I do.

And I’m learning to live it.

Imperfectly.

And I promise I’ll keep choosing us.

I say no now with more ease. With more breath in my lungs. With less explanation.

Sometimes I say it softly. Sometimes I don’t even say it at all - I just let myself not respond, because not every ask deserves my energy. Sometimes I still feel the guilt rise up… but it doesn’t get to make the decision anymore.

Now, there’s more space. In my calendar, yes. But also in my mind. In my body. In the way I exist.

I feel lighter. Like I belong to myself again. Like I’m not living for other people’s comfort anymore. There’s room for joy now. For rest. For softness. For laughter that isn’t weighed down by obligation.

I say no because I want to say yes to something better - to deeper relationships, to quieter mornings, to art, to magic, to the version of me who knows she doesn’t have to give herself away to be loved.

I don’t have to prove my worth anymore. And neither do you.

I hope - wherever you are, however far away you feel - you can sense that we made it to something different. Something freer.

You deserve this ease. This life that you can feel really loves you back.

And I’ll keep building it.

For us.

For every version of me that forgot she could say no.

For every one of us that’s learning to come home.

Always, always,

— me