✨ Reflection: I Never Learned How to Be Selfish ✨

I never learned how to be selfish.
Not once.
Not ever.

Selfishness was a language nobody in my life ever taught me —
not because it was sinful,
but because my childhood didn’t leave any room for it.

From the beginning,
I was raised to be responsible.
Raised to be needed.
Raised to be the one who carried.
Raised to be the one who handled.
Raised to be the one who made sure everyone else was okay.

I was a caregiver before I was even old enough to understand what care meant.
I was giving long before I ever learned I had permission to receive.

I didn’t have the luxury of being a child —
I had assignments.
A mother depending on me.
Sisters depending on me.
A household depending on me.

And what I didn’t realize until today
is that I became so used to carrying everybody else
that I forgot what it felt like to be carried.

I forgot what it felt like to be someone’s concern.
Someone’s priority.
Someone’s “let me check on you.”
Someone’s “let me help you.”

And that’s why this moment with my sons hit me so hard.
Not because the snow was deep,
but because the silence was.

Not because the driveway was full,
but because my heart was empty.

They didn’t call.
They didn’t check.
They didn’t notice.
They didn’t lift.
They didn’t show up.

And I realized something today I was never ready to admit:
My children have always had a mother — but I haven’t had adult sons who show up as sons when it matters. And sitting with that truth…
it aches.
But it also frees.

Because now I understand why I’ve felt so invisible in the places where I should’ve felt held.
Now I understand why I over-gave, over-supported, over-invested, over-loved —
I was doing for them
what nobody ever did for me.

I wasn’t being selfless —
I was being conditioned.

Conditioned to put myself last.
Conditioned to swallow pain.
Conditioned to never ask for help.
Conditioned to accept neglect as normal.
Conditioned to take scraps and call it “love.”

But today, God touched the part of my heart
that has never been allowed to exist:
the part that needs.
The part that wants.
The part that deserves.
The part that matters.

And He whispered,
“Daughter, it is not selfish to want to be loved.
It is not selfish to want to be checked on.
It is not selfish to want reciprocity.
It is not selfish to want honor.”

For the first time ever,
I finally understand that selfishness isn’t the enemy —
self-neglect is.

And I have lived a lifetime of self-neglect
because that’s what my childhood taught me was holy.

But God is rewriting that.
Right here.
Right now.

He is teaching me that strength doesn’t mean silence.
That motherhood doesn’t mean martyrdom.
That love doesn’t mean over-functioning.
And that honoring myself
is not rebellion —
it is obedience.

So yes,
I am grieving the truth about my sons.
And yes,
I am grieving the truth about my family.
But I am also reclaiming something I’ve never had before:

Me.

My needs.
My voice.
My space.
My peace.
My right to be loved in the same way I have loved.

I didn’t learn selfishness as a child.
But I am learning self-priority as a woman.
And God is walking me into it
one revelation at a time.

Le’Yonce

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