Rooted & Rising

If I’m being honest with myself, the biggest thing I would do differently is listen—to myself.

My intuition spoke to me long before my circumstances ever changed. It whispered in moments of discomfort, in uneasy silences, in that tight feeling in my chest when something didn’t sit right. But I ignored it. Not because I didn’t hear it, but because I wanted connection more than I wanted truth. I wanted peace, love, and belonging—even if it meant betraying myself in the process.

There were red flags everywhere. In family relationships where love felt conditional. In friendships where my boundaries were tested instead of respected. In my marriage, where words didn’t align with actions and apologies came without change. I explained those red flags away. I told myself I was being patient, forgiving, understanding. What I didn’t realize then was that I was normalizing behavior that was slowly eroding my sense of self.

I believed potential instead of patterns. I clung to who people could be rather than accepting who they consistently showed themselves to be. I stayed because I hoped, prayed, and waited—thinking endurance was the same as love. But endurance without mutual respect is not love; it’s survival.

I also silenced myself for the sake of keeping the peace. I worried about how my truth would make others feel, even when my silence was costing me my emotional and mental well-being. I mistook self-abandonment for loyalty. I confused familiarity with safety. And I ignored how my body responded—how anxiety, exhaustion, and confusion were trying to warn me long before my mind was ready to accept reality.

What I know now is this: boundaries are not cruelty. Discernment is not judgment. Walking away is not failure. Choosing myself didn’t make me selfish—it saved me.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t change the lessons, but I would trust myself sooner. I would listen when something felt off. I would honor my worth without waiting for permission. And I would remind myself that love—real love—never requires you to shrink, suffer, or silence your spirit.

Today, I listen. Today, I trust. And today, I choose peace—not because it’s easy, but because I finally believe I deserve it.