Learning to love myself

Just Say No: Why I Don’t Borrow (or Lend) Money — Even to Family Let me say it plain: no. You should never borrow money — especially from family. That might sound harsh, but it’s coming from someone who’s learned the hard way that money and blood don’t mix . I don’t borrow money from anyone. Not from family. Not from friends. Not even in an emergency. If I’m down bad, I deal with it . If I’m hungry, I skip a meal or two. Hell, I’m fat — I can afford to miss a plate or two. It’s not about pride. It’s about peace. See, when you borrow money, you invite expectations, guilt, and judgment into your life. Suddenly, every family gathering has tension hanging in the air. Every phone call feels like a debt collector in disguise . If I choose to give money, that’s one thing. I can do that with a clean heart because I already know who I’m dealing with — the ones who always have their hand out, never bring anything to the table, and somehow always have a story to tell. I accept them for w...

  No More Favors Can you do me a favor? That sentence should come with a warning label. Hell, it should be illegal to ask someone that, especially when the favor is “free,” but somehow ends up costing me forty dollars. And not just in money, but in time, peace, and self-respect. I’ve said this before, but this time I mean it: No. More. Favors. If you lead with “Can you do me a favor?” I will hang up the phone. Immediately. Because here’s the truth—those favors never get returned. They’re taken, expected, drained out of me like I’m some endless well, when I barely have enough to give myself. The people I keep helping? They never offer a hand when I’m the one in need. If I’m hungry, I go without. If I need a ride, I call Lyft. If I’m short on money, I figure it out. Alone. Not because I want to be, but because I’ve learned—asking gets me nothing but disappointment. Why? Because my family is self-serving. A collection of users. And it’s taken me too long to finally accept that truth. ...

When Love Is Served: Navigating Acts of Service in My Family My love language has always been acts of service. I’ve grown up showing love through caring actions—whether it was babysitting my younger siblings or helping out at every family gathering. Yet, over the years, I’ve also felt that my caring nature has sometimes been taken for granted. A Childhood of Service At around 12 years old, I became the family’s unofficial babysitter. I wasn’t in it for the pay—it wasn’t much anyway. I did it because it felt natural to help out, to be there for my family. It was my way of expressing love, even if that sometimes meant putting others’ needs before my own. An Easter to Remember One particular memory still sticks with me. When I was about 15 or 16, my grandmother and aunt put together to buy outfits for all my siblings for Easter. Beforehand, my grandmother told me there wouldn’t be anything for me. She asked if I was okay with that, and I told her I was because my heart was full just...