For as long as I can remember, I’ve worn myself thin trying to be everything to everyone, slipping into roles as effortlessly as wine fills my vino vessel. I’ve prided myself on this, convincing myself that if I could be enough for everyone else, I would surely be enough for myself. But in doing so, I realize now that I was slowly chipping away at the core of who I am—stretching, straining, and contorting to the point of depletion. The person who was once vibrant and deeply rooted in her essence had begun to feel like a distant memory, a faint outline hidden beneath the layers I’d worn to survive.

The weight of this journey, this habit of carrying others’ expectations and bending to their needs, left me on the edge of something resembling ruins. My soul felt cracked and bruised from years of being contorted and reshaped. I reached a point where I could no longer keep up the facade. The demands of being someone to everyone had robbed me of being true to myself.

And now, on the verge of a comeback—a return not to what I was but to who I truly am—I face an unexpected obstacle: my old identity, the very version of me that has weathered so much in order to feel loved, valued, and needed. It clings to me, insisting I stay where I am, whispering that this is where I belong, that I can’t possibly change now. There’s comfort in the familiar, even when that comfort comes with chains.

Yet I know this shift will ripple through my relationships. As I shed the layers of what others have known me to be, I recognize that some may feel unsettled or threatened by this change. The balance of those connections may falter as I let go of the parts of myself that once catered to others at my own expense. Some relationships may evolve with me, while others may resist, and in this transition, I’m learning to accept that I can’t control how others will respond. I can no longer silence these fiery feelings that have grown fiercer and fuller.

But in this moment of reckoning, I feel an undeniable pull to shed that skin. Deep within me, a voice continues to call out, urging me to stop fighting myself and start honoring the part that knows I am enough just as I am. To have a bright and true future, I must relinquish the weight of others’ expectations and trust that my own will carry me where I need to go.

This is my swan song—a final bow to the version of me that once served a purpose but now holds me back. The path forward requires courage, not to be more than I am, but to be exactly who I am. So, I let go of the need to be everything to everyone, and in doing so, I am finally free to become fully, unapologetically, myself for my own good and for the future self who deserves to live untethered.