Rely on Yourself, No one is Coming To Save you
Today, I had an unexpected and meaningful conversation with Amber. Typically, our conversations don’t delve too deep. They’re not exactly surface-level, but I rarely find myself opening up about the challenges I’m facing. Tonight was different. It was late—around 8:15 PM—and I had just finished dinner with my parents, who are visiting me for the weekend. Lately, I’ve been preoccupied with thoughts about family and how I’m often not as present for them as I want to be. I’ve been trying to pave my own way in the world, which brings its own burdens—burdens I’m reluctant to share, even with the people closest to me. How ironic that I’m willing to share these thoughts with the internet but not with the people in my life. What does that say about me?
Back to Amber. We sat together at the bar, and the conversation turned to life and, more specifically, the expectations of success. I’ve always been hard on myself, never fully satisfied with a job well done. I think I get that from my mom. Whether or not I give her the credit she deserves, I’ve always admired her work ethic. She somehow manages to work a full-time job, take care of the house, schedule appointments for my grandma who lives in another state, and handle countless other responsibilities. And she does it all without complaint. She never mentions how tired she is or how much she has on her plate—she just does it. I honestly don’t know how she manages it, because that weight? It crushes me. Whether or not I let anyone know, it’s there.
I struggle to find joy in the mundane, often brushing off small victories as “just another day.” I’ve even caught myself getting irritated at people who celebrate things like grocery shopping. But I’ve realized my frustration is misplaced. It’s envy. I envy their ability to find joy in the basics. As they say, “The ignorant live happier lives.”
Talking with Amber helped me uncover something about myself: I’m not ready to confront where my drive comes from. I know it’s rooted in anger, fear, and insecurity. I’m working on finding joy in the everyday, but it’s a struggle. One step at a time.
This year has been a transformative one for me. I’ve been focusing on myself—developing new skills, building connections, and learning how to carve out my place in the world. One harsh lesson I’ve learned is that people don’t always like you for who you are; they like you for what you can offer them. That realization has shifted how I approach relationships. I’ve learned that I can only rely on myself to save me.
People want you to succeed, but only to a point. When you start to see real progress, the dynamic changes. At first, it’s subtle: a sarcastic comment about you staying in instead of going out, or a jab about how partying isn’t so bad. I get it—if you want a mediocre life. But as I prioritized my goals, I began losing people I once considered friends. Saying “no” to things like drinking kava or going to festivals sparked visceral reactions. “I hate that you stopped drinking kava,” someone said to me once. In that moment, I thought, _Why are you mad at me for trying to better my life?_
Since August, I’ve felt an insatiable drive to acquire skills and focus on growth. Saying “no” gave me time to return to the routine that grounded me at the start of the year: going to the gym, reading, writing, and exploring my faith. People admire work ethic, but my internal critic doesn’t let me rest. There’s always more to do.
Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up until 2 AM, then woke again at 3 AM, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I felt this relentless need to work harder. This cycle—of yearning for more while berating myself—seems to define my life. But I’ve learned to channel that nervous energy into building something better for myself.
Earlier today, I had a presentation for a client. I was nervous, as I usually am, but I spent 40 minutes preparing meticulously. The difference was night and day. When the presentation ended, I gave myself a small fist pump. It’s rare for me to acknowledge my own success, but in that moment, I did. This week, I’ve realized something important: My inner critic may be harsh, but it’s also what drives me. The challenge is finding balance—pursuing growth without sacrificing joy. It’s not easy, but I’m working on it. One step at a time.
Life is messy, and growth is uncomfortable. But through conversations with friends, moments with family, and late-night reflections, I’m learning to navigate my path. It’s okay to be a work in progress. It’s okay to struggle. And most importantly, it’s okay to celebrate even the smallest of wins along the way.