Unlearning “Bothered”

I have wanted this life since I was little… I just didn’t know what I would have to go through—or who I would have to become—to get here.

The Dream

As a little girl, if you would have asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, the answer was simple and quick: a lawyer.

To what capacity? I was never sure.

I just knew I wanted to argue—and I wanted to do something I was good at.

As time went on, that vision began to shift. I went from wanting to argue and prove myself… to wanting to make a difference. I wanted to advocate for kids like me—kids in the system who had no voice and needed someone to speak for them. Maybe even someone they could look up to.

That was my dream… until my senior year of high school.

I moved from a small town to a bigger city and began attending a school that felt intimidating. At the time, the foster home I was in wasn’t ideal. There was a lot of focus on personal gain—their own, or their biological children’s—and very little poured into me. Eventually, I was encouraged to consider “more realistic” options.

After weeks of going back and forth, I decided on dental hygiene. I applied to a school, secured a dorm, and even had roommates lined up.

And then… I met a boy.

I fell in love. At the time, he showed me a kind of love I had never experienced before. I couldn’t imagine leaving him. I convinced myself that this was a blessing—and that if I moved away, it would never work.

So I stayed.

I passed on the college I had planned for, moved into an apartment with a friend, and enrolled in esthetics school instead.

Fast forward four years…

I am no longer connected to those people, and I did not build the life I once imagined. I allowed relationships to determine my direction—and it led me somewhere I was never truly at peace.

I was always searching for something more.

Until now.

Since December 2025, I’ve been working as a legal assistant—and for the first time, I feel aligned. The work satisfies me. It challenges me. It fulfills me. I’m not searching anymore.

And now… I’m doing it outside of Missouri.

I’m living in Florida—the Sunshine State—working in a field I once only dreamed about, with opportunities unfolding in ways I couldn’t have planned.

All because I finally chose to prioritize myself—and follow through.

The Reality Check

As much as I would love to say that everyone supported this journey… that wouldn’t be the truth.

I can count on one hand how many people had something positive to say about my move.

Instead, I heard:

“Are you sure?”

“You’ll be back in no time.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to leave.”

“That’s not your calling.”

“Are you moving for a man?”

“You could do that job here.”

“What happens if it doesn’t work out?”

But rarely did I hear:

“I’m so proud of you.”

“This is your dream.”

“I can’t wait to come visit.”

“You did it.”

And that silence said more than words ever could.

I’ve learned that some people will support you—as long as your life remains convenient for them. As long as you are accessible. As long as you can still serve them in the same way.

The moment you step into something that no longer revolves around them… their support shifts. Sometimes it lessens. Sometimes it disappears completely.

You might still hear from them—but only when they need something, when they want to vent, or when it benefits them.

Even in the short time I’ve been gone, the silence has been loud.

But that silence has also been clarifying.

It has opened my eyes to things I ignored for years.

The Shift

Despite every doubt, every question, every attempt to keep me where I was…

I left anyway.

I drove to Florida—11.5 hours—and it was one of the most peaceful experiences I’ve ever had.

Watching the road stretch ahead of me, cars passing, bridges opening up to water, trees moving with the wind… I felt something settle inside of me.

For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of where I was going.

I was excited.

Excited for the freedom.

The opportunity.

The fresh start.

No constant reminders of who I used to be.

No overwhelming noise.

No anxiety about who I might run into.

Just space.

And peace.

The Awakening

Being here has reminded me of who I actually am.

I realized how much I had been selling myself short—how I had slowly convinced myself that nothing I did was worthy of recognition or pride.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing my own value.

I also began to see my relationships more clearly.

Even with people I love deeply… some of those relationships are rooted in conditional love.

And that’s a hard truth to sit with.

But alongside that realization came gratitude—for the relationships that are genuine. The ones that are mutual. The ones that pour into me the same way I pour into them.

Those are the ones I’m choosing to protect, nurture, and keep close.

The Inner Conflict

For years, I’ve struggled to address issues with people—even when I’m hurt.

Not because I don’t have a voice… but because I’ve learned to avoid conflict at all costs.

It never felt worth it—to risk not being heard, to be dismissed, or to be told to “just deal with it.”

So instead, I stayed quiet.

I didn’t express when I felt neglected.

I didn’t communicate when something hurt me.

And yet… I expected change.

But how can anyone change what I never gave them the chance to understand?

That’s something I’m having to face now.

Being here is forcing me to decide:

Do I confront and rebuild?

Or do I create distance and let go?

Either way… silence is no longer the answer.

The Identity Shift

For a long time, I lived in a cycle of performance—proving, people-pleasing, and shrinking myself to fit expectations.

And it cost me.

This season of my life is about becoming a woman who is true to herself.

A woman I can genuinely be proud of.

A woman who doesn’t abandon herself to be accepted.

A woman who lives without regret.

I am learning:

To choose peace over convenience.

To choose peace over proving.

To choose myself—even when no one claps.

Unlearning “Bothered”

I used to feel like everything required a reaction.

Like I had to respond, explain, defend, or fix.

But I’m learning that not everything deserves access to me.

Not every silence needs to be filled.

Not every relationship needs to be saved.

Not every feeling needs to be chased.

Some things… you simply outgrow.

And that doesn’t make you cold.

It makes you aware.

I am unlearning what it means to feel “bothered.”

I am unlearning the need to be chosen by people who only show up conditionally.

And I am learning—day by day—to choose myself anyway.