In celebration of turning twenty-three, here are twenty-three lessons I hold dear.

1. Always Be Nice; Always Be Selfish

Finding the balance between kindness and self-preservation is something I’ve struggled with. I’ve always wanted to be a person whose good intentions are never questioned, someone people see as compassionate, trustworthy, and sincere. But I’ve learned that being kind doesn’t mean letting people walk all over me. Sometimes, I have to be selfish. Not in a cruel or thoughtless way, but in a way that protects my peace.

For a long time, I wanted so much from the people around me; love, understanding, reciprocity. And year after year, I ended up hurt. The faces changed, but the cycle stayed the same. Eventually, I had to admit that the common denominator in all of it was me. I allowed people to cross my boundaries. I gave too many chances. I kept hoping that if I was good enough, patient enough, understanding enough, they would finally treat me the way I wanted to be treated.

But that’s not how it works. People will take as much as you let them. I don’t want to be the kind of person who is so afraid of being the villain in someone else’s story that I end up being the villain in my own. So now, I choose both kindness and self-respect. I will always lead with a good heart, but I won’t tolerate being taken advantage of. If something disrupts my peace, I will walk away. And if that makes me selfish, then so be it.

2. Always do the right thing, even when nobody knows you're doing the right thing.

It sounds deceptively simple, yet it’s often challenging to practice. It’s important to pause and consider how your actions align with the person you want to become. Every day brings new experiences, opportunities, and obstacles, and staying true to your values will guide you through them. Focusing on revenge or shifting your pain onto others will only weigh you down. These decisions are rarely easy, especially when others don’t understand or agree with your choices. But in the end, you’ll find comfort in knowing you did what was right for you, and that peace will always be worth more than validation.

I’ve learned that real integrity isn’t about making choices that are easy or universally understood. Sometimes, doing the right thing means letting go of anger you have every right to hold onto. It means wishing people well, even when they don’t deserve it. It means choosing peace over payback. And when you're unsure what the right choice is, ask yourself: Does this decision bring me a sense of calm? Does it sit right in my soul? The right decision isn’t always the one that brings instant relief; but it is the one that, in the long run, allows you to live with yourself.

I think a lot about the kindness I’ve received - whether from strangers, loved ones, or even a small, fleeting interaction with a customer service worker. I remember the warmth of a thoughtful gesture, the simple comfort of being treated with care, and the way those moments stayed with me. That’s why I try to extend the same kindness to others. It’s never about grand gestures; it’s about being the kind of person who listens, who remembers, who cares.

Like when a stranger in San Francisco asked about my run and genuinely wanted to hear about my future plans. Or when my parents surprised me with tools for a hobby I had only casually mentioned. The value wasn’t in the words or the gifts; it was in the fact that someone paid attention. That someone cared. And that’s what doing the right thing is really about. Not just grand, moral decisions, but the small moments where you choose to be thoughtful, honest, and kind; simply because it’s who you are.

3. Release yourself from shackles others placed upon you.

You did everything you could, let it go.

These words serve as a reminder that no matter how much effort you put in, some things are simply beyond your control. Letting go doesn’t mean you didn’t care, and it doesn’t mean you failed; it just means you’re choosing to stop carrying the weight of something that’s already out of your hands. Holding onto regret, guilt, or what-ifs only makes it harder to move forward. The moment you accept that you have done your best is the moment you free yourself from the burden of what could have been.

We grow up hearing, "Life isn't fair," and while that’s easy to say, it’s much harder to accept when you’re the one being dealt an unfair hand. It’s difficult to sit with the feeling that you deserved better, to know that things didn’t work out the way they should have. In therapy, I once said that I feel weak because I plant my roots so deep into the people I love that I lose a part of myself when they leave. I hated that about myself. It made me feel fragile, like I was too much, like I cared too deeply. But I’ve learned that my ability to love that deeply isn’t a weakness, it’s a testament to who I am. It hurts to lose people, but that pain is only proof of how much I gave, how much I felt, how much I was willing to invest in the people I cared about.

The sad reality is that life sucks, and life goes on. It doesn’t stop when your closest family member dies at the peak of their life. It doesn’t stop when you lose the home you grew up in. It doesn’t stop when you watch someone you love suffer. Bad shit happens to great people; good shit happens to shitty people. That’s just how some things fall into place sometimes.

And the harsh truth? Not everyone will feel guilty for how they hurt you. Not everyone will reflect on the pain they caused. Not everyone will think about you after you’ve parted ways. It won’t be heavy on their hearts, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be heavy on yours. That’s the reality, but looking at it as something unfair will only make it harder to let go. You have to sit with it, accept it, and move forward. Because life moves forward, whether you’re ready or not. And if you let it, it will leave you behind.

I don’t want to hold onto things that weigh me down anymore. I don’t want to keep wondering if I could have done more. I did everything I could. Now, it’s time to let go.

4. Stay away from people who play victim in the problems they created.

Some people will set fire to everything around them and then cry about the smoke. They create their own problems, yet somehow, in their version of the story, they are always the ones who’ve been wronged. I’ve learned the hard way that you cannot reason with people who refuse to take responsibility for their own actions.

It’s exhausting to be around those who deflect blame, twist narratives, and seek sympathy instead of accountability. They will make you feel guilty for holding them accountable, and before you know it, you’re stuck in a cycle of justifying yourself, questioning your reality, or worse; feeling responsible for fixing the mess they created. The truth is, you can’t save people who don’t want to save themselves.

The best thing you can do is walk away. Protect your peace. Surround yourself with people who take responsibility for their actions, who own up to their mistakes, and who actively work toward solutions instead of dwelling in self-pity. Relationships should be built on mutual respect and accountability...not manipulation, guilt-tripping, or an endless cycle of excuses.

I refuse to let someone else’s refusal to grow hold me back. If you cannot be honest with yourself about the problems you’ve created, then I have no space for you in my life.

5. Allow people to lose interest in you.

Let them lose interest. Let them go.

Allowing people to lose interest in you is essential to living authentically and confidently. Instead of obsessing over whether you look good enough or if your life is entertaining enough for others, focus on doing what actually makes you happy. When you stop chasing approval and start embracing your true self, you free yourself from the anxiety of fitting into expectations that were never yours to begin with. The fear of losing people can hold you back, making you second-guess your choices and leaving you with regrets about the things you never did for yourself. But at the end of the day, if someone decides they are no longer interested in maintaining a relationship with you, that is their choice and no longer your concern. Their decision is a reflection of their needs, not your worth.

I used to be deeply afraid of people losing interest in me. It made me overshare, overcompensate, and constantly try to present myself in a way that would keep others engaged. I was so focused on keeping people around that I didn’t realize how much of myself I was sacrificing in the process. I shaped my decisions around what I thought would make others happy, even if it came at my own expense. And eventually, I realized I wasn’t just afraid of losing people; I was running away from my true self. I thought that holding onto them would give me stability, but all it did was leave me feeling empty, hurt, and disconnected from the person I actually was.

At the end of the day, you cannot alter what is destined to be yours. If someone is meant to be in your life, they will be. And if they’re not, forcing it won’t change a thing. Embracing authenticity means allowing people to come and go naturally, without trying to convince them to stay. If someone chooses to walk away, let them. Open the door and let them exit gracefully. Their departure doesn’t mean you weren’t enough; it simply means they weren’t meant to stay.

The moment you stop clinging to those who no longer align with you, you create space for genuine, fulfilling connections. And that is worth far more than trying to hold onto people who were never truly yours to begin with.

6. If you wouldn't do that to someone, don't tolerate it.

You should never tolerate behavior in your relationships that you would never inflict on someone else. It’s easy to justify mistreatment when you care about someone when you’ve invested time, energy, and love into a relationship, whether romantic or platonic. But no amount of history or emotion should make you accept treatment that goes against your values or personal boundaries.

If someone does something to you that you would never do to them, that alone tells you everything you need to know. It speaks to how much they respect you, how much consideration they have for you. And at the end of the day, consideration is one of the most valuable forms of love. When you truly care about someone, you think about how your actions will affect them. You take them into account. You wouldn’t make choices that hurt them just to serve yourself. If that same care and thoughtfulness aren’t being extended to you, then the relationship is already unbalanced.

Never waste your energy trying to “knock sense into” people. Trying to force someone to understand or change will only drain you. They are responsible for their own actions, their own choices, and their own understanding of right and wrong. You shouldn’t have to teach someone how to respect, love, or value you. If they don’t get it, if they don’t even try, then your time is better spent elsewhere.

Instead of clinging to relationships out of familiarity, choose the ones that nourish you; where mutual respect and effort are present from the start. The longer you hold onto something that doesn’t serve you, the longer you delay the peace and love that actually will.

7. Once you understand your position in someone’s life, it becomes easier to reciprocate their energy.

Clarity changes everything. Once you understand where you stand in someone’s life, you stop overextending yourself. You stop giving more than what’s being reciprocated. You stop expecting things they were never willing to give.

Knowing your place in someone’s life doesn’t mean devaluing yourself; it means recognizing the role they allow you to have. Not everyone will see you the way you see them, and that’s okay. What matters is that you acknowledge it and adjust accordingly. When you understand the limits of a relationship, you stop pouring energy into something that doesn’t pour back into you. You meet people where they meet you, no more and no less.

This doesn’t have to be a negative thing, it’s simply about balance. When you align your efforts with what is actually reciprocated, you free yourself from frustration and unmet expectations. You stop over-explaining, over-giving, and over-caring for people who have already shown you where you stand in their lives. Instead, you put that energy where it belongs; into relationships that are mutual, fulfilling, and aligned with your own needs.

And when you learn to reciprocate energy instead of forcing it, life feels a whole lot lighter.

8. Accept people for who they are.

Never fall in love with the version of someone they’ve never shown you.

This is something I’ve had to remind myself, not just in romantic relationships, but in all kinds of connections. When you love someone deeply, when you’ve seen the beauty beneath their surface; it’s easy to get caught in the cycle of believing in who they could be. You see their soul, magnificent and full of potential, and you want so badly for the world to see it too. You want them to step into the version of themselves that you know exists. And when they stop choosing what’s best for themselves, it’s hard to walk away, because you’ve already seen how much more they could be.

But here’s the truth: you can’t love someone into becoming the person you wish they were. No matter how much you care, no matter how deeply you see their potential, you cannot want something for them more than they want it for themselves.

Loving someone past what they’ve shown you, falling in love with their potential, is one of the most painful ways to break your own heart. You start imagining all the things you would do if you were in their position, how you’d navigate their struggles, how you’d handle their pain. But that’s just it; it’s what you would do if you were them. And they are not you. Their choices, their growth, and their healing are their own. No matter how much you try to guide them, they have to be the ones to take those steps.

The hardest part? Some people never do. Not because they aren’t capable, but because they aren’t ready... or maybe they just don’t want to. People get stuck. People hold onto their pain. People make choices you don’t understand. And as much as you wish you could pull them forward, you can’t.

I’ve stayed too long in situations, holding onto hope that people would grow into the person I saw in them. I’ve exhausted myself trying to love someone through their avoidance, their stagnancy, their self-destruction. But the more I tried, the more I lost myself. Because the longer you cling to someone’s potential, the more you ignore the reality of who they are right now.

Loving someone means accepting them for who they are, not who they could be. It means recognizing that their journey is their own, that their growth is not your responsibility. You can’t force someone to heal before they’re ready, and you can’t hold onto them hoping they’ll become the person you wish they were.

And if they choose not to? It’s okay to let go. Because in the end, love isn’t about waiting for someone to step into their potential. It’s about embracing them as they are or choosing to walk away when they can’t meet you where you need them to be.

9. Comparison is the thief of joy.

When we compare ourselves to others, we rob ourselves of our own successes, strengths, and happiness. Everyone is on their own journey, most of them aren’t even headed in the same direction as we are. No matter how similar someone may seem, they have different experiences, different goals, and a different path. Yet, comparison makes us forget that. It distorts our perception of our own lives, convincing us that what we have isn’t enough simply because someone else has something different.

It can be hard to focus on your own greatness when the world is filled with beautiful women, successful people your age, or those younger than you who seem to have already achieved so much. But their achievements don’t take anything away from yours. Their beauty does not erase yours. Their success does not mean you are behind.

For months, I compared myself to other women who looked nothing like me, simply because an ex-boyfriend had given them the same attention he once gave me. It made me miserable. My reflection in the mirror no longer looked as beautiful as it once did. Even after the relationship ended, I couldn’t stop comparing. I picked apart my own looks, my accomplishments, my worth; belittling both myself and those women in the process. And even in the moments when I preferred what I was doing or wearing compared to them, I still wasn’t happy. Because comparison never leads to happiness, it only leads to insecurity.

It wasn’t until I stopped measuring myself against others and recognized that I couldn’t let someone else’s actions define my self-worth that I started to feel whole again. My reflection became easier to look at. I started to see myself as beautiful, whether I was getting ready for bed, waking up, going out, or heading to work. I didn’t need to compare myself to anyone else to feel good about who I was.

Even now, when I’m running, lifting, or writing, I sometimes come across people who are faster, stronger, or more skilled than me. But instead of feeling small, I’ve learned to appreciate the work it took for them to get there. They are proof of what is possible. Their success isn’t my failure, it’s simply a reflection of their own journey. And the only person I ever need to compete with is the person I was yesterday.

10. Validate your feelings.

When something upsets me, whether it’s sadness, hurt, or betrayal; my emotions are valid. Even if others don’t see it from my perspective, that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. I might feel jealous over something that wasn’t meant to cause harm, or hurt by something that others see as minor. But that doesn’t mean my emotions don’t matter. They are mine to feel, to process, and to understand.

The hardest part about emotional validation is realizing that while my feelings are always valid, how I respond to them is my responsibility. I don’t need to argue, over-explain, or make others understand why something hurt me in order for my pain to be real. Sometimes, the best thing I can do is step back - sit in my own silence, reflect, and give myself the space to work through what I’m feeling.

Repressing my emotions won’t get me anywhere, but neither will forcing others to validate what I already know to be true. At the end of the day, my emotions belong to me. They don’t need external approval. The more I allow myself to feel what I feel without shame, without guilt, the easier it becomes to accept those emotions, process them, and move forward on my own terms.

Because true emotional growth isn’t about seeking validation from others, it’s about learning to give it to yourself.

11. Be misunderstood.

For a long time, I sought to be understood by others. I would get upset when I felt disregarded or misunderstood, overexplaining myself just to make sure people knew why I was doing what I was doing. I went out of my way to make others happy, to get them to see things from my point of view, believing that if I could just explain it well enough, they would understand.

But while it’s great when others see where you’re coming from, I’ve realized it’s not necessary. It’s impossible to be understood by everyone, so why try? Some people will get me better than others, and while it’s comforting to have those people in my life, it’s not essential. We all see the world differently, shaped by our own experiences, so expecting others to fully grasp my perspective is unrealistic.

For a long time, I argued with loved ones, trying to make them see things my way, but I’ve learned that it often just causes more pain. Humans are complex, each of us with different aspirations, different perspectives, that’s what makes us unique. Letting go of the need to be understood has allowed me to focus less on proving myself and more on just being myself.

Now, I no longer feel the need to justify every thought, feeling, or decision. I don’t need the world to understand me in order to be at peace with who I am.

12. Don't shape yourself to fit into spaces.

I’ve learned not to shape myself to fit into spaces that were never meant to hold me, no matter how much I believe they will make me feel accepted or loved. When you begin to compromise who you are to gain someone’s approval, it always comes at a cost. It feels like an illusion; like you’ve finally found something that sees you so clearly, that makes you feel understood. But eventually, the illusion fades, and you’re left with the sinking realization that these people never truly knew you. And worse, you hardly recognize yourself either.

I’ve caught myself exaggerating my interests, agreeing with people just to seem more likable. I worried that the things I genuinely love; reading, writing, running, working, or school weren’t interesting enough. Sometimes, I tried so hard to make them sound appealing to others that I started questioning whether I even liked them as much as I believed I did. When you start adjusting your passions to fit someone else’s idea of “interesting,” you lose touch with what actually fulfills you.

The hard reality is that not everything about us is going to be interesting to everyone. Even the people closest to us will have hobbies or passions we don’t understand. And that’s okay. Those differences don’t make them less valuable, just like our own interests don’t make us any less worthy. The right people won’t make you feel small for what you love. They won’t insert their negative opinions just to dismiss something that makes you happy. Instead, they’ll ask questions, engage, and try to understand because knowing you means respecting the things that make you you.

The way you spend your time defines you, and worrying about whether someone else finds your interests appealing only distracts you from your own contentment. It doesn’t matter if you love watching “horrible” TV, listening to the most annoying podcasts, gardening, running, reading, or writing. These things make up who you are. And the moment you start shaping yourself to fit someone else’s expectations, you lose sight of the joy they bring you. So don’t change for those around you. The right people will never ask you to.

13. Stay in the present.

For as long as I can remember, my mind has been fixated on either the past or the future, rarely on the moment I’m actually living. I’ve spent countless hours replaying mistakes, imagining different endings, or worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet. It’s exhausting. And the worst part? While I was busy obsessing over what had been or what might be, I was missing out on what is.

The present is fleeting, and for too long, I let it slip through my fingers. Then, when I finally noticed, I beat myself up for not appreciating it sooner. That only pulled me further away from the now.

Living in the present doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s something I’ve had to intentionally practice, and some days, I’m better at it than others. But when I manage to truly be here, in this moment, it feels like unlocking something profound. There’s a freedom in letting go of what I can’t change in the past and what I can’t control in the future. When I focus on now, life suddenly feels more vibrant. Colors seem brighter, conversations feel deeper, and even the most ordinary things, like making breakfast or stepping outside, become small acts of presence.

The present is the only place where I have any real power. It’s where I make choices, where I can shift my perspective, where I actually experience life. I think about how many moments of joy I let pass me by because I was too caught up in my own head, worrying, analyzing, and wishing things were different. And that hurts, because I’ll never get those moments back. But rather than letting regret pull me further from the present, I’m learning to give myself grace. No one lives perfectly in the moment all the time. What matters is that I keep trying, that I remind myself to slow down, breathe, and just be.

Each day is an opportunity to do that, a chance to meet life with a more open heart. Not everything that happens is easy, but when I choose to see even the hardest moments as lessons, it changes everything. The past doesn’t have to be something I drag behind me like a weight. It can be something I carry forward as a tool. The choices I’ve made, the regrets I’ve carried, the things I’ve questioned, they have all taught me something. But I don’t need to build my present on a broken foundation. By accepting my past and leaving behind what no longer serves me, I create space for something better, something stronger.

Living in the present doesn’t mean pretending everything is perfect. It just means being here for all of it, the mess, the beauty, the uncertainty, and the stillness.

14. Tone out the noise.

Every now and then, it’s essential to lower the volume of the world around you. Some nights, it’s necessary to mute it entirely. We live in a world that never stops buzzing, filled with voices, opinions, and distractions. But there’s something sacred in the quiet moments when you finally turn inward and listen to yourself; your mind, your body, your soul.

In the stillness, you start to realize that your own voice should hold the most weight. When you don’t take time to tune out the noise, your thoughts blur with everyone else’s. It becomes harder to distinguish what you truly want, believe, and feel. That’s why I’ve learned to cherish moments of solitude. Sitting in silence, reflecting, meditating, and praying have become my ways of grounding myself. These moments bring me the most peace. They remind me to thank God for everything He has provided, both the joys and the struggles. I’ve come to see that even pain holds its purpose, and one day, I may even miss the hardships for the lessons they taught me. Taking care of myself is also a way of taking care of God’s creation. My body, mind, and spirit were given to me for this life, and they deserve care and attention. Every time I listen to my needs, honor my limits, and nurture my well-being, I believe God smiles. He sees how I choose to treat myself with the kindness and respect He intended. He watches as I validate some cravings and dismiss others, knowing which will serve me and which will not. This act of self-care, this intentional listening, is a form of worship. Honoring His creation is both a blessing and a privilege.

So I remind myself often: tune out the world when you need to. Reconnect with the part of you that longs to be heard; the version of yourself that existed before the world told you who you should be. The part of you that dreams without hesitation, that loves without fear, that exists without the need for validation. Reconnect with the voice that has always been there, buried beneath the noise of expectations, opinions, and external pressures. Let it speak. Let it remind you of who you are. And more importantly, reconnect with the divine presence that is always listening.

In that quiet, you will find your true voice. And it will lead you to the peace you’ve been seeking.

15. Once God decides; that's it.

When God decides that something is no longer meant for you, peace will never exist within it. No matter how much time, energy, or love you pour into it, you will always feel a sense of unease. God won’t allow you to find contentment in something that isn’t aligned with His plan. But here’s the hard part: He often won’t take it away from you. He will let you hold onto it as long as you choose, watching as you try to force it to work, even as it slowly drains you. It doesn’t matter how much you want it, how desperately you try to make it fit. Once God has decided, there’s no changing it. And that’s the most painful realization of all. He won’t rip it from your hands, but He won’t allow it to bring you peace either. You can keep nurturing it, convincing yourself that it’s going the way you want, but deep down, you will always know the truth. You’ll feel the growing unease, the inner conflict, the undeniable sense that something is missing.

Holding on to what God has already released you from only eats away at your well-being. It drains you mentally, physically, and spiritually. It’s a slow unraveling, a gradual depletion of your spirit, all because you refused to let go of something that was never meant to stay. Once God decides, it’s final. And until you accept that, it will continue to chip away at your peace, piece by piece, until there is nothing left but exhaustion.

The most painful thing is watching people you love grip tightly onto something that is actively breaking them. Whether it’s a toxic relationship, a destructive habit, or an attachment that no longer serves them, you can see so clearly how it’s hurting them. But they can’t. When someone refuses to let go of what God has already taken His hands off of, they will hold on until they are forced to learn the hard way. And as much as it hurts to witness, you cannot save them from that. Sometimes, people don’t let go until they are overwhelmed with so much hurt and disappointment that they have no choice but to walk away from their own chosen poison. They have a completely different understanding of why things are unfolding the way they are. You may see it clearly, but they won’t, until they’re ready. And that is not something you can rush or force.

16. Forgive to free yourself, not for others.

The first time I heard the phrase, "Forgiveness isn’t for the other person, but for yourself," I didn’t understand it. How could forgiving someone else be about me? I found myself asking endless questions. How do I even begin to forgive someone who hurt me so deeply? How do I forgive myself for allowing that pain into my life? Is there a way to release the weight of what was done to me, the burden I never asked to carry?

Forgiveness is complicated. It’s not about pretending the pain never happened. It’s not about excusing someone’s actions or pretending they didn’t leave scars behind. It’s about releasing yourself from the grip of what they did. Think of it like carrying a heavy backpack filled with rocks, each one representing the anger, hurt, and betrayal. At first, holding onto those rocks feels like protection, as if remembering the pain will shield you from being hurt again. But over time, the weight becomes unbearable. Forgiveness is setting the backpack down. The rocks don’t disappear, the memories don’t vanish, but you no longer have to carry them everywhere you go. I used to believe that forgiving someone meant letting them off the hook, as if it erased what they did. But I’ve learned that forgiveness isn’t about them at all. It’s about me. It’s about refusing to let what they did control me any longer. It’s about choosing freedom over resentment, peace over bitterness. But the hardest part of forgiveness isn’t always forgiving others. It’s forgiving yourself. I’ve asked myself over and over: Do I have to forgive them before I can validate my own pain? Can I acknowledge what happened without feeling obligated to let it go? And I’ve realized that you owe yourself the time to feel everything first. To sit with your pain. To process it. To grieve what was lost. Forgiveness isn’t about skipping over those steps. It’s about making peace with the past once you’re ready, when the weight of holding onto it becomes heavier than the relief of letting it go.

I used to rush my healing, thinking that forgiving faster meant I was stronger. But real forgiveness isn’t rushed. It’s slow. It comes in layers, peeling back over time. And the deeper the wound, the more patience you need with yourself. You don’t have to forgive quickly. You don’t have to forgive perfectly. You just have to reach a place where forgiveness feels like freedom, not a chore.

Because at the end of the day, forgiveness isn’t for them. It never was.

17. Closure is a myth!

Closure isn’t real! The idea that one final conversation, an apology, or some grand explanation will suddenly bring peace? It’s a lie we tell ourselves to feel like we still have control. We hold onto the hope that closure will fill the empty spaces, answer the unanswered questions, and make everything make sense. But the truth is, waiting for closure only keeps you tied to something that’s already ended.

Life is messy, and so is healing. Nothing about it is linear. The concept of closure suggests a clean break, a moment where everything clicks into place, and suddenly, you can move on. But healing doesn’t work that way. It’s not a switch you flip. You don’t need closure to heal. You don’t need answers to move forward. Sometimes, the closure you’re searching for doesn’t come from understanding why something happened. It comes from accepting that you may never fully understand it; and learning to be okay with that. Closure isn’t always possible because it often relies on someone else. You might never get the apology, the explanation, or the validation you deserve. And if you’re holding out for closure from another person, you’ll stay stuck, waiting for something that may never come. That’s the danger of expecting closure, it traps you in false hope, keeping you tied to the past or to someone who is no longer part of your life.

I’ve spent nights replaying conversations, rewriting endings in my head, convincing myself that if I could just get one more chance to talk, I’d finally feel at peace. But every time I reached out, hoping for resolution, I only felt worse. Because closure didn’t come from them. It never could.

Real closure isn’t found in an apology, a conversation, or someone else’s acknowledgment of the pain they caused. It comes from within. It’s about deciding how you want to carry the experience with you moving forward. It’s about accepting what happened, even if it wasn’t fair, even if it wasn’t justified. It’s about choosing to release the need for answers and finding peace despite the loose ends.

The idea that closure marks the end of pain is misleading. Healing is an ongoing process. There will be days when you feel like you’ve moved on, and others when old emotions resurface. That’s normal. Accepting that healing is layered and unpredictable allows you to stop waiting for some perfect resolution before you let go.

Stop waiting for the perfect ending. Stop waiting for the conversation that will make it all make sense. You don’t need closure to find peace. Sometimes, letting go of the need for closure is the closure itself.

18. Every relationship is a mirror, revealing the parts of yourself you're reflecting.

Every relationship is a mirror. It’s strange how much of myself I see reflected in the people I’m close to. Some reflections are beautiful, reminders of my kindness, resilience, or the way I support others. But some are harder to face, like the insecurities I haven’t fully healed or the patterns I keep repeating.

When someone admires my patience or believes in my dreams, it forces me to recognize that those qualities are a part of me, even if I struggle to see them. But the mirror works both ways. If a relationship makes me feel ignored or disrespected, I have to ask myself why those wounds still hold power over me. I used to think it was all about the other person, but now I see that every relationship reveals something deeper within myself. I’ve noticed I tend to fall into the same dynamics, drawn to certain types of people or repeating similar emotional cycles. And if the same problems keep showing up, it’s not just coincidence, it’s a lesson I haven’t fully learned yet. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I know it’s true. Relationships are constantly reflecting the work I still need to do.

How people treat me often mirrors how I treat myself. If my boundaries keep getting crossed, I have to ask if I’ve been firm in setting them. If I feel unappreciated, am I valuing myself enough? It’s hard to admit, but sometimes, the way others treat me reflects what I unconsciously allow or believe I deserve. But there’s another side to this too. When I extend kindness, patience, and understanding to others, it’s because I’ve nurtured those things within myself. When I judge or react critically, it often means I need to soften my own self-talk. The way I experience relationships isn’t just about them, it’s about me, too.

I’m learning to pay attention to these reflections, not to judge myself but to grow. Every person in my life holds up a mirror, whether I like it or not. Someone who sparks jealousy in me is showing me where I need more confidence. Someone who makes me feel deeply loved reflects the progress I’ve made in loving myself. Whether it’s a friend, partner, or family member, each connection reveals a part of who I am and what I’m still working through.

19. Healing isn't the absence of pain.

Wounds heal, scars form, but there are still days when a shift in the weather, a sudden touch, or the right kind of pressure brings back an ache, a sharp reminder of something you thought had faded. The wound is healed, but that doesn’t mean a scar wasn’t left behind. That’s how emotional healing works too.

Some wounds linger for days, months, years; sometimes for a lifetime. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting or erasing what happened. It means the pain no longer controls you, no longer weighs you down, no longer dictates your every move. It means you’ve grown beyond it, but that doesn’t mean you’ll never feel it again.

There are things I’ve healed from that still resurface. The pain isn’t what it once was, but I’d be lying if I said it never bothers me. I used to believe that when these feelings crept back in, it meant my healing was fake, that I had only been pretending to be okay. If I still felt it, didn’t that mean I had never really moved on? But now, I see it differently. The pain was once real. My body, my mind, my heart, they remember. Of course, it still lingers. It hurt me. But I faced it, I learned from it, and when it returns, I notice that it doesn’t hurt the same way it used to. The sting is different now, quieter, duller. A memory rather than a wound.

When I think back to a relationship that fell apart over a year ago, I’m no longer grieving the person I lost; I’m grieving the version of myself who had no idea how to navigate that kind of pain. It hurts to remember the sadness I carried, the way I broke, the way I struggled to find my footing again. The pain doesn’t come from missing them. It comes from seeing myself back then, lost and hurting, and wishing I could have held her through it all.

Pain like that has a way of showing up when I’m feeling my best, as if to remind me how far I’ve come. And when I’m low, it can feel like a cruel whisper that all my progress was an illusion. But that’s not true. Healing isn’t about never feeling pain again. It’s about knowing that when it does return, it won’t break me the way it once did.

20. Just because an apology wasn't given, doesn't mean it wasn't deserved.

There will be a lot of apologies we never receive. And to be fair, there are probably apologies we should have given but never did. I know I’ve been on both sides of it. I’ve withheld apologies that, at the time, I didn’t see as necessary, but later realized might have been crucial for someone else. Maybe they were waiting for it. Maybe it would have brought them peace. People have different priorities, different responsibilities, different morals. Sometimes we know we need to apologize and don’t. Maybe the door is best left shut; no apology, no more words exchanged, just sealed and locked. Maybe we convince ourselves that an apology won’t change anything. Maybe we feel guilty but avoid it out of discomfort. There are millions of reasons why someone justifies not giving an apology, whether it’s us or someone who owes one to us.

And yet, when we’re the ones left without the words we needed to hear, it stings. It feels personal. It feels like we weren’t worthy of an apology, like our pain didn’t matter enough to be acknowledged. And that’s the part that can be so degrading. We spiral into wondering why, why didn’t they feel like we deserved those words? Why was it so easy for them to walk away without owning up to what they did? We analyze their silence like it holds the answer, when in reality, it probably doesn’t.

The truth is, people don’t always give apologies because they don’t always see the need for one. Or worse, they do see it, but can’t face it. And sometimes, an apology does matter. Sometimes it’s all we want. And sometimes, no matter how much we wish for it, it never comes. And that hurts. It makes us feel invisible, like our pain existed only in our own head. It’s humiliating to feel like we’re standing there, waiting for something that will never come, questioning if we even deserved it in the first place. But the lack of an apology doesn’t mean the hurt wasn’t real. It doesn’t mean we imagined it, or that we were wrong for wanting accountability. It just means that some people lack the awareness, the emotional maturity, or the courage to face what they’ve done. And that has nothing to do with us.

I think about the times I should have apologized and didn’t. Not because I meant harm, but because I was too caught up in my own perspective to realize how my actions might have affected someone else. I wonder if they think about that missing apology the way I do. If they waited for it. If it would have changed anything.

21. Not everyone deserves to know the new you.

Growth changes you. Pain changes you. I don’t feel like the same person I was a year ago. I catch myself reacting differently, choosing different hobbies, commitments, and values, choosing peace over chaos, stillness over noise. I set boundaries where I once let people overstep. I embrace parts of myself I used to hide. And yet, with time, people come back. They apologize, they seek reconnection, they try to step into a life they no longer belong in.

But the truth is, not everyone deserves access to the person I am becoming.

Change makes people uncomfortable. Some seek the old version of you because it’s easier for them. Some admire your growth but aren’t willing to accept the work it took to get here. And some just want to be part of your life again, without acknowledging the distance they created in the first place. I used to hold on tightly to the people I loved, even when they weren’t good for me. I gave them space in my life because of shared history, even when all they brought me was pain. But I am not interested in entertaining the past at the expense of my peace. I am not interested in starting over with people who left me behind.

I think what hurt the most was realizing how quickly some people moved on from situations that buried me in sorrow. It stung to see them erase me from their life, rewrite the story without me, and then try to plug me back in later as if nothing happened. I used to feel abandoned by it. Now, I feel grateful. Grateful that they left, grateful that I no longer have space for people who seek validation in their past instead of growing beyond it.

I no longer let everyone back in. My time, my energy, my presence; it is reserved for those with intention. I don’t need people to come back when they finally realize I am great. I don’t need people to return when they remember that I am fun. 

22. Not everyone who has hurt us, had bad intentions.

The world isn’t black and white. We live in a painful world filled with people who are hurting, and sometimes, that pain spills over onto us. Some of the people who have hurt us also loved us deeply. Some had genuine intentions but never knew how to love us in the way we needed. Some were carrying their own wounds and, without realizing it, passed that weight onto us. Some made mistakes they wish they could undo.

There are countless reasons why someone may have hurt us, and while that doesn’t excuse their actions, it does remind us that not every broken relationship has a villain. We don’t have to twist every ending into a betrayal. Sometimes, even the kindest, most well-intentioned people aren’t meant to stay in our lives forever. Sometimes, love isn’t enough to make something healthy, and just because someone wasn’t malicious doesn’t mean they were meant to stay and love us the way we deserve.

This isn’t about making excuses; it’s about seeing the truth for what it is. Not everyone who hurt us did so with the intention of causing harm. And if we’re honest, we’ve probably hurt people too, more than we realize. Perspectives shape everything, someone we see as kind and loving might be another person’s deepest heartbreak.

Some people are best loved from a distance. You can hold space for the fact that they had good intentions while also recognizing that they no longer belong in your life. You can acknowledge the good in them without dismissing the harm they caused. You can wish them well without keeping them close. At the end of the day, they don’t need a seat at your table.

23. Some things I'll keep, some things I'll leave behind.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized just how much of a people pleaser I became. I spent so much time prioritizing the happiness of others that doing anything for myself felt unnatural, almost wrong. And when I did? A heavy guilt settled over me, like I was breaking some unspoken rule. If I look back at my life, this isn’t new. I have always put others first, often at my own expense.

I grew up with hardworking parents. My mother worked endlessly from morning until night, and because of that, I can hardly remember her getting me ready for school. I remember waking up alone with my older sister, the two of us rushing to get ready before our mom came by to pick us up. I remember going to the babysitter’s house, being cared for until she got off work. And then, when we were finally old enough, I remember sitting at home alone with my siblings, waiting for her to come through the door.

My dad lived in California most of the time, working his agricultural job. I only saw him a few months out of the year, but I was the biggest daddy’s girl. I remember the nights he would surprise us, showing up unexpectedly after flying in from California to Arizona. I remember how it felt like visiting family in California, how every reunion felt warm, happy, and welcoming, even though we had been apart for so long. At the time, it was the best feeling ever. But looking back, I realize how chaotic it really was. How messy. But none of that mattered back then. It just felt nice.

I used to picture my family as perfect, but the reality was different. We struggled, and the flaws my family carried didn’t just stay in the past, they stayed with me.

Our family dynamic was unstable. My parents argued in front of us, sometimes even asking for our input like we were supposed to mediate their relationship. When we finally moved to California to live together, I had the illusion that everything would fall into place. That we would finally be whole. But it didn’t happen that way. We had grown up in separate spaces, with different expectations and realities. We didn’t know how to be a family in the way I had imagined.

The truth is, I learned a lot of unhealthy relationship habits from my parents. Their relationship struggled with trust, miscommunication, and distance. I saw how love could be messy, how it could hurt, and how two people could care for each other and still not know how to make it work. I carried a lot of shame about this. I hesitated to let people into my personal life because I didn’t want them to see the cracks. I didn’t want them to see the way my family functioned or, at times, didn’t function at all.

But as I unlearn the guilt, I am also learning acceptance. Because this.. this little, messy, imperfect family dynamic; is mine. It is what shaped me, for better or worse. I used to think that because it wasn’t the childhood I wanted, that meant I had to run from it, or feel ashamed of it. But the truth is, I don’t have to be proud of it, but I also don’t have to carry the weight of it like a burden.

Yes, I hoped for different. And I am working toward something different for my future family. But in order to create that change, I first have to accept what was. I have to look at my upbringing and decide what I want to carry forward and what I want to leave behind. Because healing isn’t about rewriting the past, it’s about choosing a better future.