You Are Not Ready for This

A Letter to Self

August 2025

How often do we think we’re matching the energy others give us? That we’re giving back in equal measure? “You’re giving away too much of your time and effort and going unnoticed.” Those were my psychologist’s exact words.

I love doing things for my people, family, friends, the ones I care about. I rarely ask for acknowledgment. Most of the time, I work quietly in the background, like a ghost. There are things I’ve done that others will never know about, some with the help of people sworn to secrecy. I don’t chase validation or praise; that defeats the point. But do I like being seen? Do I like hearing that I matter? Of course. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.

Still, it’s exhausting. Always giving, holding space, doing emotional labour, only to feel invisible or sidelined. My upbringing and a generous serving of anxiety never made it easy to hold myself together when things fall apart.

But after years of working on myself, especially learning to sit with my emotions, I’m here. I’m more confident than ever. I’m proud of how I look. I have this love-hate relationship with how deeply I understand people. My friends are surprised. Honestly, so am I.

One thing my psychologist said really stuck with me. I was rambling about not being able to do something, and he told me:

“It’s not that you can’t do it, it’s that you don’t want to do it. There’s a difference.”

It took a while to sink in, but that idea has changed a lot about how I approach things now.

A lot of my writing sounds like fiction, or so I’ve been told. But it’s not. I love fiction, but I write what’s real. Reality is scarier than fiction anyway. I call it creative non-fiction. No masks.

The last few years have been some of the hardest. But also, the most revealing, especially about myself. My psychologist is low-key proud of me. Sometimes he laughs and asks, “Are you sure you need to be here? You already know what to do.” I even sang in his office once. Terrifying. Apparently, I have a voice. But sorry, doc, I won’t be recording myself and sharing it with anyone. Not yet. Maybe one day. One thing at a time.

“You have way too many green flags, as people call it now,” he said.

“So…. does that make me red?”

He died laughing. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“When things get uncomfortable or too real, people panic. They run toward easier things instead of fixing what’s broken. But what you ignore will haunt you, until it explodes.”

That used to be me. But I stopped running a long time ago. Recently, chopping off my hair was one of the scariest decisions I’ve made. It wasn’t just emotional, it was practical too. My hair had become so hard to maintain. I was losing it, pulling handfuls from my scalp in the shower, and the stress of trying to hold on only made things worse. Everyone knows how much I loved my curls, how much I cared for them. But sometimes, you wake up and say, “Enough is enough,” and you let go.

It’s been a few months now since I started going to the gym and working with the best trainer I could ask for. My body is changing, and I’m finally starting to feel at home in it. My trainer asked if I wanted a six pack, but I said no. I just want to be fit, strong, and a little defined, nothing I cannot maintain. Most of all, I want to feel natural and good in my own skin. I am not changing myself for anyone else.

Now my hair colour is different too. My best friend was over the moon to be the one to do it for me. It is a drastic change. I am not staying stuck anymore; I am living through change. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. My mom thinks I look like her dad (yikes!!!). A few of my internet friends really liked it and said it suits me. The box office people absolutely loved it. I am definitely getting a lot of looks on the street, probably because a caramel-skinned guy with this hair colour stands out. But the truth? I love it. I still catch myself in the mirror like it’s a jump scare. Even my brain hasn’t adjusted yet. Sometimes, change is inevitable.

I take responsibility for my actions. If I’ve hurt someone, even unintentionally, I apologise genuinely. But I’m done saying sorry for things I didn’t do. That’s just people-pleasing. My psychologist made me ask: were they ever really pleased? By doing that, I wasn’t just neglecting myself. I was abandoning myself.

People make up stories to avoid accountability. That doesn’t make them true.

Starting a conversation, explaining when something hurts is not an attack. It’s human. We need to be emotionally present, to value each other’s voices. Getting defensive helps no one. The person I am today exists because I faced my feelings. I didn’t bury them in the back of my emotional closet like cursed relics.

Because if you don’t deal with them, they come back. Like a Gwi-ma at 3 a.m., ready to suck the soul right out of your body. So instead, keep singing your songs to protect your hunuon. Even the bravest demon hunter knows that if you face your feelings now, the shadows lose their power, and you stay safe when the night comes.

People know I’ll be there for them. But from now on, as my psychologist keeps reminding me, I’ll give as much as I receive. If someone shows they care, I’ll show up, fully and unconditionally. But if my time and energy aren’t appreciated, I’ll stop pouring myself in.

“People who care, try. That’s it.”

I’ll be there as much as you’re there for me.

The people already in my life, the ones who know me, I don’t need to keep explaining myself to them. I’m done over-explaining.

“If it doesn’t have your name on it, it’s not for you” he said.

And this time, I believe it.

03/08/2025

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