I was scrolling through my phone this morning—trying to ignore the pile of laundry that is currently staring me down—when I saw this quote, and I swear, I nearly dropped my coffee.
“Life gets better when you let people lose you, instead of begging them to choose you.”
Read that again. Let it marinate.
If you’re anything like me, your 20s were probably spent doing the “Pick Me” dance. You know the one. It’s that exhausting, frantic hustle where you twist yourself into a pretzel trying to be the “chill” girlfriend, the “available” friend, or the “accommodating” family member. You over-extend, you over-explain, and you basically hold up a neon sign that says, “Please love me, I promise I’m low maintenance!” (I am not, in fact, low maintenance. I am a Leo. We are high maintenance, but high return on investment.)
But something hits different when you turn 36.
Maybe it’s the fact that my “destruction budget” for nonsense is currently sitting at exactly $0.00. Maybe it’s the nurse in me—I spend 12 hours a day keeping humans alive, managing meds, and dealing with bodily fluids that definitely aren’t mine. By the time I clock out, my capacity to beg someone to treat me with basic decency is in the negative. I am clinically out of patience.
In the hospital, we triage. We prioritize who needs help right now and who can wait. I’ve realized I need to start triaging the people in my life, too.
For a long time, I thought that if a friendship felt hard, or if a family dynamic was draining me dry, it meant I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I thought if I just explained my feelings one more time, or sent one more perfectly drafted text message, they would finally “get it.” They would choose me.
But here is the hard, funny, liberating truth: You cannot convince someone to value you.
You can’t explain empathy to people who are committed to misunderstanding you. And you certainly can’t beg someone to stay when they have one foot out the door.
I’ve had a lot of shifts lately—in my circle, in my family, in my tolerance levels. And yeah, it stings when people walk away. It hurts when you realize that the loyalty you gave freely wasn’t reciprocated. But there is also this weird, quiet peace that settles in once the dust clears.
The quote says, “let people lose you.” That’s an active choice. It’s not about being passive-aggressive or ghosting people (though, temptingly easier). It’s about simply… stopping.
Stop sending the double text. Stop making excuses for their bad behavior. Stop trying to facilitate a relationship that only exists because you are carrying the entire mental load of it.
I’m realizing that when I stop begging, I create space. And sure, at first, that space feels a little empty. It feels a little like loss. But then? It feels like relief. It feels like waking up on a Saturday and realizing you don’t have to go to that brunch with the “friend” who makes backhanded compliments about your parenting or your job. It feels like not having to defend your boundaries to people who benefit from you having none.
This isn’t to say I’m going hermit mode. I love my people. I love the messy, chaotic, beautiful village I have. But the difference is, the people who are left? I didn’t have to beg them.
They chose me when I was a mess. They chose me when I was navigating the chaos of motherhood. They chose me when I was ranting about work or crying over something stupid. They are the ones who bring the coffee without being asked and who know that when I say “I’m fine,” I am absolutely lying.
So, this is my official resignation letter from the Begging Business.
If you want to lose me? Go ahead. I’ll hold the door open for you. I’ve got kids to raise, a husband to annoy, a blog to write, and a life to live. And frankly, I’m too busy enjoying the people who did choose me to worry about the ones who didn’t.
How about you guys? Have you had a moment recently where you just decided to stop chasing? Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this shift!