Yesterday, I ran into someone at the gym. They asked how I’ve been and mentioned they don’t see me around much anymore. I smiled, because the truth is simple: I’ve started enjoying my own company. I do my own things now. I walk by myself when I want to. I move at my own pace.
But I didn’t get here overnight.
After years of trying to fit in—and being deeply hurt by a friendship that once meant the world to me—I have become more cautious about who I let into my life. My peace matters to me deeply, and I’m sure it matters just as much to others. Now I understand something clearly: I was never meant to fit in.
With age, I’ve also come to realize that friendships evolve. What once formed easily now asks for something deeper. Time feels more precious. There is no longer room for drama or fake energy. I understand now that not every friendship is meant to last forever, and that doesn’t mean it failed. Sometimes, it simply means we grew in different directions. I will always cherish the good times we shared—the laughter, the tears, the moments that truly mattered.
In friendships, just like in families, you can do your absolute best—be kind, supportive, loyal—and still not be enough for some people. And that’s not a failure. That’s life. You cannot control how others see you. The only thing you can control is how you show up for yourself.
Over the years, I’ve also come to another hard realization: some people came into my life not to stay, but to climb. They used my presence, my kindness, my connections—and when it suited them, they walked away. And you know what? That’s okay. Those friendships were never meant to last. Not everyone is meant to walk alongside you forever, and not everyone can be friends with everyone.
So now, I’m learning to be myself—fully and unapologetically. I have my own light, and I’m finally letting it shine. Only I truly know what I like, what I dislike, what drains me, and what fills me up. Some people will never like me no matter what I do. And by the same token, I know that in someone else’s story, I may be the bad guy—the villain. I don’t claim to be perfect. I never have.
But I will say this: if you need me, I will be there.
That’s why I don’t take it lightly when someone texts me, calls me, checks on me, or invites me in. Your effort matters to me. Your goodwill matters. I give people the benefit of the doubt—always—because that’s who I am at my core.
These days, when old hurt resurfaces, I give myself permission to feel the sadness. And then, gently, I remind myself to be kind to myself—to not dwell there for too long.
I have nothing left to prove to anyone.
It’s going to be okay.
Everything will be alright.
Even if it’s just me—myself and I—standing where I am, I’m at peace with who I’m becoming.
Growing older has taught me this: peace doesn’t come from being chosen by others. It comes from finally choosing yourself, and being at ease with the person you’ve become.
And honestly? That feels like freedom.
Have you ever outgrown a friendship that once meant everything to you? Reached a point where choosing yourself felt more peaceful than trying to belong?
Give it a try. It feels liberating.
Shine your own light.
Buy yourself flowers.
Take your own picture.
Go for a walk by yourself.
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to bring physically present. 🙏🏻❤️