My Life Journey With Him :)

Always saying yes, always being there when called upon. It felt right, natural, to help, to ease the burdens of others. The quiet joy that came from knowing I made someone else's day just a little easier was enough. Each day bled into the next, and the rhythm of giving continued, unnoticed in its intensity.

But over time, something began to change. There was no single moment, no event to point to. It was more of a slow erosion, an invisible tide pulling away the edges of who I was. The weight of always being available, always giving without limit, began to settle deep in my chest. I never asked for anything in return. Why would I? Helping was enough. Or so I thought.

One evening, after another long day filled with other people's needs, I found myself alone in the quiet. The silence was heavy, pressing in, filling the room in a way I hadn't noticed before. I sat with it, realizing that somewhere along the way, something had been lost. Not stolen, not taken—just given away, piece by piece.

I didn't know where to draw the line. No one had ever told me that sometimes, kindness without limits can turn into self-sacrifice. I never learned when to say no, when to stop offering parts of myself that I couldn't afford to lose.

And so the sadness crept in, not because of anything anyone else had done, but because of what I hadn't done for myself. The suffering wasn't from being wronged. It was from never knowing when to stop being good. 

The tears came slowly at first, then poured out, not from regret but from understanding. I had lost pieces of myself along the way, not because anyone demanded them, but because I didn't see the cost of always saying yes.

In the end, it wasn't about changing who I was. It was about learning to protect what was left. To give, but not at the expense of my own heart. To find balance, not between good and bad, but between kindness and self-preservation.

And so, in the quiet, I made a promise not to stop giving, but to start knowing when to stop.