I lost myself in his world for years. Here’s how I started doing things just for me—and rediscovered my voice while still leaning on his support.
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I lost myself in his world for years. Here’s how I started doing things just for me—and rediscovered my voice while still leaning on his support.
and then
I remember staring at my closet one day thinking, “Who even am I now?” I had merged into his world so much that I lost track of mine. I started doing small things just for me—taking a pottery class, writing again, volunteering. He supported it all. Depending on him didn’t mean disappearing into his shadow. It meant having the safety to find myself again. And that, to me, was liberation.