When Clarity Arrives, the Cycle Ends

Choosing Me Wasn’t a Slogan; It Was a Boundary.

The picture is clear now.

For most of my life, I believed that if I wasn’t being heard, liked, or received, it was because I had done something wrong or failed to do something right. That belief didn’t come out of nowhere. It was formed early, in a home where two of the people closest to me simply did not have the capacity to see me.

My father did.

Effortlessly.

He worked six days a week, rarely took time off, and still came home curious, kind, and genuinely interested in who I was becoming. He never dismissed me. Never questioned my ideas. Never made me feel like my imagination, ambition, or creativity were too much.

That was not the case with my mother and my sibling.

No matter what I did, how carefully I showed up, how much I softened myself or tried to explain, there was a wall. A blockage. Something unreachable. Their inability to receive me was reflected in ways that were confusing, destabilizing, and deeply internalized.

As a child, I didn’t understand capacity.

I understood blame.

So I learned early that being myself wasn’t safe. I learned to adjust.

Perform. Protect. Justify. 

I wore armor, sometimes sharp, sometimes abrupt, because I didn’t yet know how else to survive being unseen.

And because what’s familiar feels normal, I carried that dynamic forward.

I chose teachers, supervisors, collaborators, and relationships that mirrored the same energy: dismissive, withholding, subtly abusive. 

Not because I wanted pain, but because some part of me believed that this time, if I said the right thing or showed up the right way, the ending would change.

It never did.

What I see now, with real clarity, is that it was never about them.

It was about me continuing to participate in a pattern that no longer served me.

The final person in this series, the one I spent the last few years trying to work with, reason with, and be seen by, wasn’t a failure. She was the last teacher. The final mirror. The moment the pattern could no longer be denied.

And for that, strangely, I feel gratitude.

Because when I paused, truly paused, and chose myself, something fundamental shifted. I stopped explaining. I stopped trying to be palatable. I stopped giving people long leashes when my intuition had already raised the flag.

The abuse didn’t escalate.

It ended.

Not because someone else changed, but because I did.

I am learning now how to receive goodness. Generosity. Ease. And yes, it’s uncomfortable. When you’ve spent a lifetime fixing, contorting, over-giving, and earning approval, being met with kindness can feel unfamiliar.

But I’m leaning in.

I’m also saying no, quickly, cleanly, without drama. I know almost immediately what will nourish me and what will drain me. And because of that, I am no longer attached to outcomes.

If someone doesn’t respond, doesn’t follow through, doesn’t see me, it no longer sends me spiraling into questions of worth.

I know the answer now.

I didn’t do anything wrong.

I’m doing everything right.

What I want in this next chapter is simple and non-negotiable: mental health, creative sustainability, and growth that does not require self-abandonment. I will no longer give 150% to people or systems that cannot meet me with integrity. 

I will give what I am capable of giving, thoughtfully, efficiently, and without compromising my why.

As we move through the Zodiac of Sh’vat, the Jewish calendar month associated with renewal and creative flow, I feel its energy settling into my body. There is an abundance rising, quiet, steady, and effortless. The kind that doesn’t need forcing. 

The kind that trusts its own timing.

Tomorrow is my 65th birthday.

I know who I am now.

That knowing was taken from me early.

It took decades to reclaim.

But it’s mine again.

I am leaning into the creative energy that has guided me my whole life, the same energy that has brought me gifts, opportunities, friendships, and people who stood by me even when I couldn’t yet stand fully in myself.

With this door now closed, fully, finally, I understand what choosing myself actually means.

It means I get to choose.

With honesty and integrity,

Susan

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