For years, I’ve bent and twisted myself to fit into what others need from me, especially my mother. I’ve sacrificed my peace, my sanity, and sometimes even my identity, just to make sure everyone around me—especially her—is comfortable. It’s a burden I’ve carried for as long as I can remember, but the weight of it has reached its limit.
I used to think that helping others, especially my family, meant being there for them at all costs—putting their needs above mine, constantly smoothing things over, and making sure the peace is kept. But recently, I’ve had to face a truth that’s been growing inside me for years: help comes at a price. And for far too long, I’ve been the one paying that price.
With my mum, it’s always felt like there’s a price for her help—emotional blackmail, resentment, and a constant undercurrent of criticism. She’s helped me, yes, but the moment I accept that help, there’s a shift. Suddenly, I’m indebted to her in ways I never agreed to, and my needs and boundaries don’t matter anymore. She has a way of making me feel like I owe her not just for the help she gives me, but for her love, for her mere presence. And it’s exhausting.
I’ve spent so much of my life navigating the emotional landmine that is my relationship with my mother. She’s the one who raised me, yes, but she also became the one who made me feel invisible, unworthy, and like I was always in her shadow. The sacrifices I made for her and my brothers were always meant to be acts of love, but somewhere along the way, I lost myself in them. Now, I realize I’ve been walking on eggshells, trying to please her, trying to get her approval, and in the process, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to just breathe.
The pain I feel isn’t just from her criticisms, or the constant undermining of my boundaries—it’s from the realization that she has never truly seen me for who I am. The love I’ve shown her, the things I’ve done for her, have never been enough, and it’s time for me to stop trying to prove myself.
It hit me recently: I need to stop putting myself in a position where her discomfort becomes my responsibility. Her anger, her bitterness, her constant need for validation—those aren’t my burdens to carry anymore. Her inability to respect my boundaries, her constant overstepping, her need to control everything I do with my own child—none of that is mine to fix.
I’ve given so much of myself to try and make her comfortable, to try and please her, but at the cost of my own peace. I’ve been holding myself back, compromising on what I believe in, just to keep the peace. But I can’t do it anymore. I won’t do it anymore.
I’ve spent enough time living in fear of her anger, of her judgment. But now, I’m done. If her discomfort means that I have to choose myself over her, then I’ll do it. Even if it means creating distance, even if it means cutting ties, even if it means losing the ‘help’ she’s always given me. I’m ready to let go of this cycle of needing her approval, of needing her love, because I know now that I will never get it in a way that truly nourishes me.
It’s hard. It hurts. But I have to stand in my own truth. I’ve spent years trying to heal the wound she created inside of me, but healing can only happen if I finally step away from the thing that’s been tearing me down. It’s time for me to be my own source of comfort, my own source of strength. And that means drawing clear lines, setting boundaries, and making sure that her anger, her discomfort, doesn’t become my problem anymore.
I’m learning that peace doesn’t come from making others comfortable. It comes from honoring my own needs and standing firm in what I believe in. And no matter how much it hurts, I know that I can’t keep sacrificing my peace for someone who doesn’t see me, doesn’t respect me, and doesn’t truly love me in the way I need to be loved.
It’s time to stop giving my power away, even if it means losing everything I thought I needed. It’s time to choose me.
And that’s what I’ll do, every single day.
Adulting & Motherhood 