A letter about self-abandonment, emotional labor, and slowly disappearing inside caregiving, relationships, family, motherhood, or survival.
You have given so much of yourself, to the people who needed you, the family who depended on you, the role you stepped into because someone had to. Somewhere in all that giving, the version of you that exists outside of caregiving quietly went missing. You can’t quite remember the last time someone asked what you needed, or the last time you asked yourself.
I want you to know: love was never supposed to cost you yourself. Devotion was never meant to mean disappearance. You didn’t fail anyone by needing rest, needing softness, needing to be cared for the way you care for others. You simply gave from a well that was never refilled.
You are allowed to come back. Not by loving anyone less, but by finally including yourself in the circle of people you take care of.
You can love everyone and still remember you exist.
With you, always.
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