Editor’s note: This is written from my current vantage point
Welcome back, curious minds and kind hearts, to this week’s chapter of the Think Again series, where we’re rethinking the beliefs, expectations, and definitions of success we carry so we can live with greater curiosity, self-trust, and alignment.
If you’re new to the series, I encourage you to begin with When I Stopped Explaining, a reflection on communication, understanding, and self-trust, followed by The Beauty of Not Knowing Yet, where I explore embracing uncertainty and finding peace in the unknown.
As we begin today’s chapter, What I Can Control, let me ask you a question: Have you ever reached the end of the day feeling exhausted, only to realize you hadn’t actually done that much?
If so, you’re not alone.
Sometimes the things that drain us most aren’t physical at all. They’re the invisible things we carry every day. The worrying, the waiting, the convincing, the hoping, the fixing, the replaying of conversations, or trying to make sense of situations that were never ours to solve.
For a long time, I thought if I cared enough, tried enough, or gave enough, things would eventually work out. Not because I wanted to control the outcome, but because I genuinely believed effort mattered. And I still do.
The difference is that now I understand effort only works when it’s met with effort.
For years, I poured so much of myself into relationships that felt unstable, inconsistent, or one-sided. I spent countless hours trying to understand people, their circumstances, and the choices they made. If a friend wanted to do something but couldn’t quite afford it, I was happy to cover more than my share. If admitting fault first meant opening the door to a conversation, I’d do it. If remembering birthdays, checking in, or making plans helped preserve a relationship, I’d gladly invested my time.
I was trying to preserve something I deeply valued. Because when I care about someone or something, I care wholeheartedly, passionately, and deeply.
Eventually, though, that came at a cost.
Somewhere along the way, I had spent so much energy taking care of everyone else that there was very little left for me. I constantly felt emotionally exhausted, drained, and at times, invisible. The more I gave without reciprocity, the emptier I became.
That’s when I began to realize something difficult:
Relationships can’t be carried by one person forever.
Healthy relationships require mutual effort, mutual care, and mutual curiosity. They aren’t sustained because one person keeps trying harder. They grow because both people continue choosing one another.
That realization was painful.
It meant accepting no amount of effort on my part could make someone value the relationship in the same way I did. And eventually, I had to ask myself a difficult questions:
Is this relationship asking me to grow, or simply asking me to keep giving?
If the answer was the latter, I had another choice to make: continue carrying something that was leaving me depleted or let it go with love and move forward.
That’s when I started taking long walks.
Not because they solved my problems, but because they gave me something I desperately needed: space.
Space to think. Space to breathe. Space to be me. Space to notice the beauty around me instead of constantly focusing on what wasn’t working.
Rather those walks reminded me that while I couldn’t control whether someone recognized my kindness, appreciated my loyalty, or understood my heart, I could control what I chose to do with my time, my energy, and my attention.
And it was that shift that changed everything.
The energy I once spent chasing relationships that no longer nurtured me slowly found a new home.
I began reading more. Creating more. Driving simply because it was something I enjoyed. Researching things that sparked my curiosity. Making art. Strengthening my body. Protecting my peace.
At first, those things felt almost selfish. But eventually, I realized they weren’t distractions. They were investments.
Investments in becoming someone who felt whole, fulfilled, and grounded regardless of who was or wasn’t walking beside me.
Looking back, I spent so much time trying to influence things outside my control that I had very little energy left for the one things I could actually shape: my own life.
Today, I still care deeply about people. I still believe effort matters. The difference is that I no longer believe it’s my responsibility to carry every relationship on my own.
I’ve learned that while I can’t control whether someone chooses me, I can choose where I invest my time, my energy, and my heart.
And I’ve found that when I invest those things wisely, there’s more than enough left to build a life I’m proud to call my own.
Let me leave you with this: Where is your energy going today? And is it helping you grow, or simply keeping you exhausted?
Be sure to check back next week for the next chapter of Think Again series. Until then, wishing you peace, love, and light.
As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!
***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***
