“Turns out, being ‘low maintenance’ is just code for ‘I have no needs, please walk all over me.’”
The woman in front of me laughed as she said it, but it wasn’t funny. Not really.
She had spent years priding herself on being easy. The one who didn’t complain. The one who made things work. But one evening, standing in the kitchen, knife in hand, exhaustion pressing down on her shoulders, something inside her cracked.
He walked in, barely glancing at her as he dropped his keys on the counter.
“We’re out of that dressing I like,” he muttered, scrolling through his phone.
Not a “hello.” Not a “how was your day?” Just another thing for her to handle.
“I can pick it up tomorrow,” she said, pushing the knife through a carrot.
“Yeah, but I wanted it for tonight,” he sighed.
And just like that, it hit her.
Not the words. Not the tone. The weight of it all.
She looked at the knife in her hand. At the pile of food she was making for him. At her own aching body, the exhaustion she had been swallowing for years.
And then, like lightning - the question hit her.
“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞?”
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. But it was undeniable.
What about me? Who’s checking if I’m okay? Who’s making sure I get what I need? When was the last time someone did something for me - without me having to earn it?
She felt her hands tremble.
For the first time, she didn’t push it down. She didn’t swallow it back. She let the thought settle in, heavy and real. And when she stopped over-giving - just for a second - 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝.
But not in the way she had hoped.
“You’ve been different lately,” he said a few days later, his tone off.
“Different how?” she asked.
“I don’t know. You’re just… not the same. You’re not as… easygoing.”
There it was. The proof.
𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠. Code for: You’re not letting me take you for granted anymore.
And then came the real gut punch.
“You’re changing,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “This isn’t who you were when we met.”
Oh.
So that’s what this was.
He wasn’t worried about her. He wasn’t asking what she needed. He was just mad that she was no longer convenient.
And 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!
She had trained him to treat her this way. She had built this relationship on self-abandonment, on making sure he was comfortable while she slowly disappeared.
Because he never had to.
She put down the knife.
Took a deep breath.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.
How much of your life have you spent proving you’re worthy - of love, of success, of money? And what would happen if you finally stopped?
If you’re ready to rewrite the rules, to finally step into your own worth, DM or comment - Kill It - below and I send you my ebook: Kill Your Money Fear.
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