Just because the doorbell rings

This morning, I was standing at the kitchen sink when a single thought stopped me in my tracks.

How did this happen to me?

I closed my eyes, and it all came flooding back — the divorce, COVID, my daughters moving out, the pressure to sell the house, and me quietly falling apart while trying to hold everything together.

For years, I lived in a pattern I didn't even have a name for: self-sacrifice.

I put everyone else first. I was the strong one. I was the capable one. I handled things so others didn't have to.

Even in the middle of my own health crisis, I believed it wasn't okay to put myself first.

My ex practiced self-preservation. Why didn't I? I should have.

My mom always told me, "Just because the doorbell rings doesn't mean you have to answer it."

I wish I'd truly understood what she meant sooner.

Why I Kept Sacrificing Myself

Writing this post is a reminder to me, too.

I think I did most things because I placed so much value in what I did and how I looked to others. So much of my worth got tied up in being a "good wife" and a "good mother" — in how well I performed those roles, and how much I could do for other people.

In retrospect, none of that mattered as much as I thought it did.

The Hidden Cost of Self-Sacrifice

When we constantly put ourselves last — especially during hard seasons — our bodies eventually pay the price.

Here's what I've learned:

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