My mother loved deeply, but sometimes she also disappeared. She gave so much of herself that there wasn't much left of just... her. And I think she lost something in that. I don't think she intended to. I think she was doing what she believed was right. But the cost was real. 🌸

My faith tells me that women are called to care and to love. I still believe that. But I think I've been misunderstanding it to mean that my own needs don't matter. That serving others is more noble than serving myself. That the more I give up, the more worthy I become.

But that's not what real love teaches. Real love—the kind my mother actually showed—was about choosing to give, not feeling obligated to disappear.

I think the best thing for me is to learn the difference between service and self-erasure. To understand that I can love deeply and still have boundaries. That taking care of myself isn't selfish—it's necessary. That a woman can be devoted and still have dreams that are just hers. 🕊️

I want to be like my mother, yes. But I want to learn from her mistakes too.

What would change in my life if I treated myself with the same kindness I'm always extending to others?