1,016 Days: The Cost of Putting Myself Last

 

1,016 Days: The Cost of Putting Myself Last

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It has been 368 days since my doctor shared with me that there is a specialist she felt might be beneficial for me to see. 

At that appointment, I was told there would be a significant wait and that I would be placed on a waiting list. I understood. Specialists are difficult to get into, and when you need someone who focuses on a very specific area of medicine, patience becomes part of the process.

This summer, I was told I needed to see yet another specialist. The wait for that appointment? 361 days.

But the first specialist? That one was different.

There are only THREE specialists in the country currently accepting patients who specialize in the particular area my doctor believes may help us better understand what has been going on with my health.

Three. In the entire country.

So, for 368 days, I waited.

I put the appointment on my calendar. I planned around it. When other activities were being scheduled, I communicated the importance of that day to the people who needed to know.

Because this wasn't just another appointment.

This was something I genuinely needed.

I haven't felt well in quite some time. But I have learned to live life around it. I get up, go to work, show up for others, laugh, enjoy the little things, and keep moving forward. Somewhere along the way, I became pretty good at convincing myself that maybe I was feeling better.

This weekend, I even convinced myself that with the new medication, perhaps I could eat meat again.

Nope. My body had other plans.

But that is what I do. I adjust. I find a way. I keep going.

And today, after 368 days of waiting, I was supposed to log into a telehealth call no later than 3:15 p.m.  Due to being tardy....

Instead, I was given a new date.

July 18, 2028.

Another 648 days.

1,016 days.

And just like that, I went from hope to defeat, and then straight to sad.

Not because I believe my life is more important than anyone else's. Not because I expect the world to revolve around me.

But because, for once, I needed something for myself.

And today, I was reminded how easy it is to lose sight of our own needs when we spend so much of our lives making room for everyone else's.

The past few weeks, I have spent an extraordinary amount of time reflecting. On the world, the people around me, relationships, choices, and probably more than anything, myself.

And if you know me, you know I can go from 0 to 7,000 pretty quickly when something matters to me. What you may not know is how quickly that same passion can turn inward.

When something goes wrong, when someone responds in a way I don't understand, or when a situation doesn't have the outcome I hoped for, I have this terrible habit of pulling myself apart.

I replay conversations. I question my intentions. I dissect my words, my actions, my reactions, and sometimes things that weren't even mine to carry in the first place.

I can find a thousand ways to convince myself that I am the problem.

And the crazy part? I will extend grace to just about anyone while struggling to find even an ounce of it for myself.

A few weeks ago, after what felt like endless nights without sleep and an overwhelming amount of reflection, something finally clicked.

Maybe I am not always the problem.

Maybe having a different perspective doesn't make me difficult. Maybe speaking up doesn't make me disrespectful. Maybe wanting better for people doesn't mean I believe I am better than anyone.

And maybe, just maybe, my peace deserves protecting, too.

So I spoke up.

Not to hurt anyone. Not to win. Not because I believe my way is the only way. But because sometimes silence comes at a cost, too.

What followed was an outside perspective from someone who knew only one side of a much bigger picture. And I would be lying if I said it didn't hurt. It was deeply insulting, especially after the amount of thought, reflection, and genuine concern that had gone into reaching that moment.

But it also made me think about something I have believed for a very long time.

Success is not linear. Growth is not linear. And just because someone learned to do something one way does not mean it is the right way for everyone.

Life requires skills. Some of those skills are taught beautifully. Others are learned through mistakes, survival, difficult experiences, and sometimes through examples we probably shouldn't have followed in the first place.

My background in behavior and the science of learning has shaped the way I see people. I don't automatically see a bad person when someone struggles. I see behavior, circumstances, learned responses, missing skills, and choices that sometimes lead to outcomes nobody wanted.

That doesn't mean people shouldn't be accountable. Accountability matters. But accountability and compassion can absolutely exist in the same space.

I believe that when we genuinely want someone to succeed, we don't just point out where they are falling short. We help them find a way forward.

We teach. We model. We support. We hold expectations. We give people opportunities to grow.

We help without enabling.

I believe that with my whole heart.

And perhaps that is one of my greatest strengths and one of my greatest struggles.

Because I have never quite figured out how to sit quietly when I believe there is a way to help.

I don't know how to see someone struggling and simply decide it isn't my concern. I don't know how to stop looking for the good in people, even when their choices disappoint me.

But I am beginning to realize that somewhere along the way, I confused caring about others with being responsible for everything around me.

And those are two very different things.

Today brought all of those reflections into focus in a way I wasn't expecting.

Because despite communicating, planning, and doing what I thought was necessary to protect something incredibly important to me, I watched the day unfold in a way that left me feeling as though my needs were an afterthought.

And that hurt.

Not because I expect everyone to understand what I am going through. I don't. There are plenty of things people are carrying that I know nothing about, too.

But consideration matters.

Communication matters.

And sometimes the smallest amount of thoughtfulness can make the biggest difference in another person's life.

Today, what hurt most wasn't simply losing an appointment. It was realizing how often I make adjustments for everyone else without stopping to consider what those adjustments are costing me.

I spend so much energy making sure people feel heard, understood, supported, and considered.

I think about how my decisions affect others. I worry about their feelings. I look for solutions. I try to see every side.

And somewhere in all of that, I have gotten really good at putting myself last.

That is a difficult thing to admit.

Because I love helping people. I love watching people grow. I love being someone others can count on. I don't ever want to lose those parts of myself.

But I am learning that being dependable doesn't mean being endlessly available.

Being compassionate doesn't mean accepting every circumstance.

And being strong doesn't mean I should have to keep pretending that things don't hurt.

There is a difference between being selfless and forgetting yourself.

I am not writing this because I think people owe me something. I am not writing it to assign blame or suggest that I have always handled everything perfectly.

Lord knows I haven't.

I have made mistakes. I have reacted emotionally. I have said things I wish I had said differently. I have a whole lot of growing left to do.

But I also know that my intentions have so often come from a place of wanting people to be successful, supported, and cared for.

And maybe it is time I offer myself that same consideration.

Today reminded me that protecting my peace isn't about becoming cold, selfish, or indifferent.

It is about recognizing that my well-being matters, too.

It is about understanding that I can care deeply without carrying everything.

It is about realizing that I can see the good in people while still acknowledging when their choices hurt.

It is about giving myself permission to be disappointed without immediately searching for everything I must have done wrong.

Most importantly, it is about remembering that I am a person worth showing up for, too.

I don't want today to make me bitter.

I don't want it to change the way I love people, advocate for people, or believe in their ability to grow.

That is who I am. And I genuinely love those parts of myself.

But I do want today to change the way I show up for me.

Because if I am willing to move mountains to help someone else find their way, I should at least be willing to make room for my own needs.

Today was hard. Really hard.

And beneath the frustration, I am just sad.

Sad that something I needed so badly slipped away. Sad that I have gotten so comfortable pushing through things that shouldn't always have to be pushed through. Sad that it took a day like today to recognize just how much of myself I have been giving away.

And sad because 648 more days is a long time when you already haven't felt well for so long.

But perhaps there is some growth in this, too.

Not the kind I wanted. Certainly not the kind I would have chosen.

Just the quiet realization that I can continue to be a person who shows up for others without abandoning myself in the process.

I still believe in grace. I still believe in second chances. I still believe people are capable of incredible growth when someone is willing to meet them where they are and help them move forward.

I just think it is time to include myself in that belief.

Because my health matters. My time matters. My feelings matter. And my peace matters.

Not more than anyone else's.

But certainly not less.

And maybe that is what 1,016 days is teaching me.

I cannot control every circumstance, every decision, or the consideration other people choose to give. I can only control what I choose to do moving forward.

I can still love people fiercely. I can still advocate. I can still see potential where others see problems. I can still believe that people are more than their worst choices.

But I can also learn to draw boundaries, protect the things that matter to me, and stop treating my own needs as something that can always wait.

Because sometimes the person you spend your entire life trying to help, support, and encourage needs to be the person looking back at you in the mirror.

And today, for the first time in a long time, I think I finally understand that.

I don't need to become less of who I am to find peace. I just need to stop leaving myself out of the compassion I give so freely to everyone else.

-Beth B. Blissful