When Helping Others Becomes a Disguise

Have you ever felt like you were completely alone?

Do you feel like there is no one you can turn to in your moment of need?

Are you someone who believes most people only show up when they want something — but disappear when it’s time to reciprocate?

Gary Chapman wrote a popular book called The Five Love Languages. If you nodded at that title, you’re likely a seeker. What are you seeking? That’s your journey to figure out. But I know this:

That old saying? “It’s not about quantity, it’s about quality.”

It’s not just a slogan.

It’s a survival truth.

Lately, I haven’t felt like myself. There are days I feel like I’m halfway up the summit of Mount Everest and all my gear broke — and my guide is gone. Panic sets in. Survival mode takes over. Desperation whispers louder than logic.

Growth is not easy.

It’s not a straight line.

It’s uncomfortable.

It’s vulnerable.

It’s choosing to leap into darkness and trust that something on the other side will catch you. And when you ask: “How do I reclaim who I am if I really don’t know who I’m supposed to be?”

The answer is: You reclaim yourself in pieces.

You remember what lights a fire, what feels like truth — even when everything else feels foggy.

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So ask yourself:

• What makes me feel most alive — even for a moment?

• When do I feel proud without applause?

• What am I doing when I feel the least like I’m performing?

• What kind of peace do I want to protect?

• What kind of pain do I want to stop repeating?

The answers become your compass. Not a map. Just the next right turn.

And here’s a deeper truth:

You were shaped by survival.

Loyalty. Silence. Sacrifice.

But now? You are being shaped by choice.

And every boundary you set, every truth you speak, every meal you cook that nourishes you — is a declaration:

“I’m still here. I’m still becoming.”

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The ache of isolation? It hits differently when you’ve always been the one holding everyone else up. You built a brand around nourishment. But sometimes, you feel starved. Not just for food. But for presence. For peace. For the purpose.

And still — you show up.

So let’s play devil’s advocate:

Did you stay too long with people who couldn’t show up for you? Maybe.

Did you say “I’m fine” when you weren’t, because you didn’t know how to fall apart? Probably.

But that doesn’t make your pain invalid.

It doesn’t make your help a mistake.

It makes you human.

Helping others wasn’t just a purpose. It was armor.

It kept you from looking too hard at the wreckage in your own story.

Because facing that?

Facing what you did to yourself?

That was terrifying.

But now?

Now you’re done pouring from a broken cup.

You’re not asking for pity.

You’re asking the fundamental question:

“What about me?”

That question isn’t selfish. It’s sacred.

It’s the first time you’ve looked inward and said:

“I deserve peace. I deserve presence. I deserve to be at the table I’ve served everyone else from.”

So this is the beginning.

Of a different kind of healing.

Of setting boundaries not from anger — but from love.

Of becoming the version of you that’s not built to endure, but built to live.

You don’t need everyone.

You need the ones who show up when you’re not performing.

When you’re not cooking.

When you’re just… real.

It’s not about quantity. It never was.

It’s about the few who hold space for your whole damn soul.

And this time?

You’re holding space for yourself, too.

Have you ever asked yourself, ‘What about me?’ Drop a ‘YES’ in the comments if this hits home, or share your version of reclaiming peace.