she didn't deserve what i did to her...

selfishness is the only way to say sorry

Tonight, sitting in front of the mirror with my favorite Korean serum dripping down my skin, I got lost in my thoughts.

In my happiness.

In my contentment.

In myself.

Not because I was using my favorite products or because my favorite tunes were playing in the background. But, rather, because after a full week of putting the needs of my children, my business, schools, my customers, and my characters before mine, I heard it was time to be selfish.

Ignore the calls.

Ignore the requests for my presence.

Ignore the deadlines I’ve given.

Ignore the school emails.

Ignore the volunteer opportunities for the week.

Ignore the schedule.

Ignore the fridge I once promised to give a deep clean.

Ignore the messages.

Ignore it all.

Ignore them all.

Everything.

Everyone.

Quiet the noise so you can hear yourself.

Your thoughts.

Your desires.

Your heart.

Your urges.

You.

The voice in my head was loud. It was clear. And, it did not stutter.

Be selfish. With your time. With your energy. With your resources. With your assistance.

Submission was the conclusion of the one-sided conversation. It always is. Because I’ve grown to understand that the voice isn’t a figment of my imagination. Neither is selfishness. They’re advocates for the part of me that doesn’t deserve all I’ve put her through.

My nervous system.

That voice is a direct link to the source of my sanity. It is the final indicator that I am stretched thin. Stretched out. And stretched far too much.

It is the final form of chastisement, forcing me to face the internal destruction I’ve orchestrated by ignoring every opportunity to nourish, reset, soothe, pamper, or calm my nervous system, attempting to make every moment of my day a progressive one.

That voice is a reminder that I haven’t been kind to my nervous system. I haven’t been gentle with her. I haven’t moved gracefully in her honor. I haven’t been friendly. I haven’t been considerate. I haven’t treated her with tenderness and care.

And—

My selfishness is the only way to say sorry.

So, even if it’s only for thirty minutes or if my selfishness stretches for a full thirty days, it’s necessary. A new requirement. A boundary. A nonnegotiable.

In my selfishness, I’ve promised to:

• listen to my music loudly

• laugh without reservation

• take long, exaggerated bubble baths

• shower with sex in the city on replay

• explore new fragrances

• buy the bag i’ve been eyeing

• add another day to my pilates schedule

• drink more water

• get massages

• soak at the spa

• lay in bed after my alarm has sounded

• explore the loungewear section of every website i visit

• write as many substack posts for my column as my hands will allow

• ignore things that i simply don’t want to do

• have champagne

• visit my favorite restaurants

• dance alone in my room with the door locked

• avoid taking on tasks that don’t serve me in some way

• skip appointments that don’t align with self-care

• use a face mask before bed 3 nights this week

• avoid my office

• lock the door of my study

• write leisurely

• keep my phone on DND

• close my computer at least 22 hours of each day

• avoid screentime

• take a seat at my vanity every day

This punishment is solace. I welcome the consequences of my actions, because I should’ve known better. I do know better. Still, I allow life’s demands to consume me as if the demands of my body aren’t paramount.

It’s no secret that you can’t be the best anything if you aren’t your best self.

So, I accept everything that I am up against until my system is pleased with my efforts.

I am looking forward to the solitude it demands.

The softness it offers.

The stillness it promotes.

The slowness it manages.

And the selfishness it entails.

My selfishness will save me, and I’m counting on it.

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