Can I Seek Permission to be Selfish?

I heard this morning that February 17th is spiritually significant. Apparently it’s one of those dates. Portal energy. Alignment. Whatever that means. I don’t know about all that, but it felt ironic hearing it today of all days.

Because if you asked me what exactly changed, I wouldn’t be able to point to one thing because it’s not one thing. It’s a pattern. Might as well call it a build-up, and a more definitive way would be to call it a series of small decisions I wouldn’t have made two years ago.

For example, I ended something that technically didn’t need to end. Nobody cheated. Nobody disrespected anybody. There was no dramatic toxicity. It was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine. And yet I knew something was wrong. It gets a little annoying when there’s no villain, you don’t get to feel justified. You just have to stand in your own decision and look slightly unreasonable. I didn’t tell anyone at home about the breakup. Not because it’s a secret or because it didn't hurt. It just didn’t feel like something where I needed sympathy.

Thing is, I don’t usually leave when things are still decent. I usually negotiate. I adjust. I try to make it work. I give things time. I consider other people’s feelings like they’re my responsibility to manage. This time I didn’t. And I won’t lie, there’s guilt in that, and even worse, not the external kinda guilt. Nobody accused me of anything. It’s internal. That voice that asks if I’m being too quick. Too firm. Too unwilling to “try harder.”

Then there’s work. That meeting keeps replaying in my head. The one where she exploded. In front of everyone. I’ve gone over it so many times I could probably transcribe it word for word. And the strangest thing isn’t even that it happened. It’s how I reacted. I didn’t spiral the way I expected to. I didn’t overanalyze myself to death. I just… detached. And that scared me a little. Because once I detach, I don’t attach the same way again.

I reached a point where I genuinely thought, whatever happens now happens. I’ll do my job. I’ll show up. But I’m not internalizing every tone shift or public correction like it’s a reflection of my worth. That’s new! I think that’s what all of this is about. I’m not tolerating things the way I used to. I’m not building men into projects. I’m not overextending to prove competence. I’m not staying where I feel slightly misaligned just because it’s comfortable.

And yes, I feel selfish about this. Brutally and incredibly selfish in-fact. It's almost a gut-wrenching feeling

Because I’m choosing security over romantic uncertainty. I’m choosing the possibility of exactly what I want over settling for something that’s almost right. I’m choosing to leave conclusively instead of hovering in limbo.

So, if everything unnecessary falls away, what remains between me and me? what remains between the relationship my reality has with who I am on the inside? I guess… a willingness to be honest, even when it’s uncomfortable. A refusal to settle. A hunger that refuses to die down. The knowledge that I’m allowed to want more; more money, more comfort, more growth, more space to fail and still be me. The audacity to demand love from myself first, before anyone else gets a turn. The patience to watch myself figure out what I want without rushing or bending.

And maybe the weirdest part? I like that version of me. Even if she’s messy, restless, selfish, and sometimes annoyingly stubborn. She’s mine. She’s growing. She’s exacting in her expectations but also forgiving when she slips. She’s learning that the best relationship I’ll ever have is this one, the one that refuses compromise when compromise means diminishing myself.

So yeah, when everything falls away, it’s just me.

And if that’s selfish, well… maybe being selfish is the point.