I AM LEARNING TO CHOOSE MYSELF

I've always liked the phrase “choose yourself.”

It sounds empowering. Almost romantic.

Until choosing yourself means saying no to something someone else desperately wants you to say yes to.

Until it means changing your mind. Leaving earlier. Staying longer. Wanting something that doesn't make sense to anyone else.

Or simply admitting:

This isn't what I want anymore.

That's when choosing yourself becomes uncomfortable.

I've spent a lot of my life understanding other people's perspectives.

I can explain why someone feels the way they do. I can make room. Compromise. Adjust. Carry a little more.

There is beauty in that.

But there is also a point at which understanding everyone else becomes a very sophisticated way of abandoning yourself.

I'm learning the difference.

I'm learning that loving someone does not always require agreeing with them.

That kindness doesn't require unlimited access.

That being a good woman doesn't mean being endlessly accommodating.

And perhaps most importantly, I'm learning that my desires do not need a closing argument.

Sometimes I want the flowers. Sometimes I want the quiet room. Sometimes I want dinner alone. Sometimes I want the dress. Sometimes I don't want to explain.

Sometimes the answer is simply no.

And sometimes it's yes.

A full-bodied, uncomplicated yes.

I've started paying attention to those little choices.

Wearing perfume when no one is coming over. Ordering exactly what I want. Taking my time. Changing my mind without putting myself on trial.

They seem small.

But maybe freedom is built there.

In the tiny moments when we stop asking the world for permission to belong to ourselves.