The Ocean Doesn’t Apologize for Its Depth
When I zoned out and couldn’t hear a word
I used to believe love is something I need to work for, that I needed to perform and meet people’s expectations to be appreciated. When someone complained that my words were very few and people may assume I’m not fun to be with, I spoke more and joined conversations that I didn’t even vibe with. I said yes when my mind was screaming no, just so I wouldn’t disappoint anyone. I pretended to be okay with what I wasn’t comfortable with. I apologized even when what happened had little or nothing to do with me. I thought I was being a good person, maintaining peace, being sure everyone was okay. I was so engrossed that I didn’t notice what was going on with my perception of love, life, and being valued. My sense of self-worth slowly eroded, and I woke up to that reality someday—that all this while I had said no to myself many times when I should have said yes. I shrank myself and accepted the bare minimum, maybe out of fear that asking for too much might hurt people, or maybe I simply assumed I could please everyone and still be wholly myself. But that was the biggest lie.
Whether I wanted to accept or ignore the truth, the reality is there is work to be done to meet myself with the same kindness I’ve freely given but denied myself. And I’ve also wasted time programming my mind to think the bare minimum is okay. So I have to reprogram the software I’ve been living by.
Zoning Out and Mental Reboot
Two weeks ago, I got so tired that I zoned out. Adjusting to a new environment, routine, and people can be tiring at times. A lady was talking to me about a project we were working on, I heard what she was saying but couldn’t react. I just stared expressionless. I could almost hear the windows and doors in my mind shutting. It felt like my system was rebooting.
She laughed as she spoke and suddenly stopped, asking, “Why are you staring at me like that?” I raised my hand and said, “I’m tired.” She said, “Oh, sorry,” and continued what she was doing. Normally, I would feel bad and wonder how she felt or if she thought I was rude, but I didn’t. I was too tired. Those who spoke to me didn’t get my usual enthusiasm. I interacted calmly, maybe a bit cold.
Reclaiming Energy and Space
In that moment, I felt something. I am human, and I get tired. I’m allowed to be tired. I could put aside being Miss Sunshine when I’m not okay. There is no sunshine left, so to speak. I need to recharge too. Life is too short; living it performing and overthinking every little thing wouldn’t do me any good. I’m well good at overthinking, though. I’m realizing that I have just so much energy. If I channel it into the wrong things—overthinking, figuring out how to make everyone feel okay, shrinking myself—I’ll run out of batteries and zone out more frequently. I’d love that to happen less or not ever again.
Apologizing for taking up space or being unique, is not the best frequency to live in, nor can we thrive in that place. We are like stars filled with energy and light, each glowing differently but beautifully, lighting up the dark sky and the galaxy.
You may look at yourself and wonder if there’s really anything special about you, or if I’m simply trying to be nice, but I’m not. It’s a truth you need to believe now, or you will later have to accept it the hard way. To carry yourself with the utmost importance and priority because you matter cannot be overemphasized.
Seeing Others’ Beauty
There’s this girl. I’ve been trying to make her believe she’s beautiful, but she wouldn’t because, according to her, she didn’t fit the usual beauty standards.
Yesterday, we were walking and a lady stopped us, looking so excited as she loudly said “hiii”, like she’d known us for a long time but had just seen us again after so many years. She complimented that girl, saying she looked so beautiful and that her skin tone was so unique. She couldn’t control her laughter and hid behind me, shy and blushing.
I spoke to the lady. “I’ve been telling her, but she doesn’t want to believe me.” We all laughed.
The lady said goodbye, and as we continued on our walk, I told her, “Didn’t I tell you?” She said it was the first time someone complimented her in that way…But I wasn’t so surprised, because I believed she is beautiful. Beauty standards or not, it doesn’t matter…
Maybe you don’t see your uniqueness because you pay more attention to your flaws. Perspective changes everything, shifting it to see the light and the radiance that comes from you is showing kindness to yourself. The fact that someone else’s eyes light up when they see you is proof that you bring sunshine to someone else’s world and you're a blessing to them.
Owning Your Uniqueness
Being more introverted, in a world that wants you to say maybe too much, is completely normal. Saying yes when your mind is saying no will get you drained and exhausted. I’m proof of that. Taking off the mask we wear and being our true self makes life lighter and more authentic.
I’ve been asked so many times by different people, “Why do you wear so many bracelets? Wouldn’t it be better if you just wear the color that complements your clothes?” Or some will say, “What beauty is there in wearing so many of them?” But I’ve worn them for years, most given to me by my loved ones, and I always wear them because they are more than just bracelets. They are representatives of the love I hold dear, so I care less about what people think of my precious bracelets.
Waves in the Ocean
There’s this concept of every human being as a wave in the ocean. Part of the vastness, each energy matters. Every contribution counts, and the ocean is richer for it.
You are allowed to say no, to laugh without wondering if it’s too loud, to deserve better because you are priceless, to choose what’s best for you, to be proud of your depth, to own your quirks… You are allowed to be human.
Shalom, dear one.
❤️🕊
️
I write to find light, understand the darkness, and share calm, quiet moments with you. If you love deeply and heal slowly, you’re safe here.
There’s a quiet kind of courage in this piece.
What came and stayed with me through out, is how honestly you traced that slow erosion of self.
There are many who can give and give and call it kindness, while quietly abandoning themselves in the process.
That line about saying no to yourself when you should have said yes… that one lands for many, I feel sure. Not with drama, but with recognition. A lot of us have lived there longer than we’d like to admit.
And then you make the shift, it’s subtle, understated. You resisted writing this shift as a grand transformation, just a moment of being too tired to perform for others. Funny how clarity sometimes arrives dressed as exhaustion. Like the body finally stepping up and announcing, “Enough. We’re done pretending here.”
There’s something deeply human in the way you’ve written this. You don’t position yourself as ‘fixed’ or ‘finished’. You’re in the middle of it. Relearning. Rewiring.
I admire the gentleness you extend outward, the way you see beauty in that girl before she can see it in herself.
That tells the reader everything. You were never lacking in worth… just overly generous with it, handing it out to everyone but the one person who needed it most.
And that image of the bracelets, wow, honestly, that’s where the piece expands. Not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s yours. No explanation, no apology. Just meaning worn quietly on the wrist. That’s the kind of detail that makes your voice on the page feel lived-in.
This doesn’t read like someone trying to become something new. It reads like someone slowly returning to themselves.
And that’s a far more interesting journey. A very worthwhile read. Thank you.