Rues' Worlds

For a long time, I believed that being a good person meant always being available. Always saying yes. Always showing up, even when I was exhausted, overwhelmed, or silently struggling. I thought selflessness was a virtue and that putting others first was simply what caring people did.

What I didn’t realize was that constantly choosing everyone else often meant abandoning myself.

Self-care is often portrayed as bubble baths, spa days, and weekend getaways. While those things can be wonderful, true self-care is much deeper—and sometimes much harder. It is the decision to protect your peace. It is recognizing your limits without feeling guilty. It is understanding that your needs matter just as much as anyone else’s.

One of the most powerful forms of self-care I have learned is the ability to say no.

“No” is a complete sentence, yet many of us struggle to use it. We fear disappointing people. We worry about being perceived as selfish, difficult, or uncaring. But every time we say yes to something that drains us, we are often saying no to something we truly need—rest, healing, growth, or simply time for ourselves.

Saying no is not rejection. It is redirection. It is choosing where your energy goes and understanding that not every request deserves access to your time. Boundaries are not walls meant to keep people out; they are doors that allow the right people to enter while protecting what matters most.

Prioritizing yourself does not mean becoming self-centered. It means acknowledging that you cannot pour from an empty cup. When you take care of yourself, you become healthier, more present, and more capable of supporting the people you love. Choosing yourself is not an act of selfishness; it is an act of responsibility.

Along this journey, I also learned something unexpected about friendship.

We often romanticize friendships that have lasted since childhood or those that have been present from the very beginning of our lives. While those relationships can be beautiful, not every meaningful friendship starts early. Some of the most valuable people enter our lives much later, at exactly the moment we need them.

These friendships may not have witnessed our first chapters, but they meet us in the middle of our story. They see who we are becoming rather than who we used to be. They show up without years of history, yet somehow offer understanding, encouragement, and connection that feels deeply genuine.

Not everyone is meant to stay forever, and not everyone is meant to arrive at the beginning. Some people enter our lives during seasons of growth, healing, and transformation. Their timing does not make their friendship any less real. Sometimes the people who find us later become the ones who help us discover ourselves more fully.

As I continue learning the art of self-care, I am reminded that life is not about being everything for everyone. It is about honoring your own needs while building relationships that respect them. It is about saying no when necessary, choosing yourself without apology, and appreciating the friendships that arrive when the timing is right.

You do not have to earn rest. You do not have to justify your boundaries. You do not have to keep shrinking yourself to make others comfortable.

Choose yourself. Protect your peace. And make room for the people who genuinely value the person you are becoming.

It’s strange to admit, but I’ve always felt a quiet kind of sadness during my birth month.

While everyone else might expect me to feel joyful, celebrated, or excited to mark another year of life, I often feel the opposite—heavy, introspective, and withdrawn. It’s not something I always talk about, mostly because birthdays are supposed to be happy, right? But this month always brings up feelings that are hard to put into words.

Part of it is the pressure. The idea that I’m supposed to have accomplished certain things by now. That I should feel grateful or energized to "start fresh." But instead, I tend to spiral into self-reflection. I think about the time I’ve lost, the things I haven’t done, the people who are no longer here, and the versions of me that I’ve shed along the way. Birthdays magnify the silence in places I didn’t know were still empty.

Sometimes, it feels like everyone else is celebrating a person I’m still trying to become.

I know I’m not alone in feeling this way—there are others who find birthdays hard, too. For some, it’s grief. For others, loneliness. For me, it’s a mix of emotions I can’t always explain, like a quiet cloud that settles in when the calendar flips to my month.

This post isn’t to seek sympathy, but to share a truth that’s been sitting on my chest. Maybe someone reading this feels the same way and just needed to hear that they’re not broken or ungrateful. You can feel both thankful for life and quietly sad at the same time. You can celebrate yourself and mourn what’s changed.

I’m learning to hold space for both.

So, if your birth month doesn’t feel like a celebration, that’s okay. Your feelings are valid. You’re not alone in them. And even if it’s quiet or complicated, your life—your presence—still matters.

In this sinful world, no one is safe. even how hard you try to be careful and attentive on things around you, you still get attacked by those who are willing to pull you down.

I want to be like birds that free to fly, dolphins that swim freely and gracefully. Surrounded by people with unhealthy attitudes and perspective is not ideal to your inner peace. Stay away from those bad environment that creates negative living and perspective in life.

Stay humble as much as possible. Don't fight back or else you get the same level of hypocrisy. Live the life that you want and never let anyone take that happiness, love and peace in your life.

I am willing to give without asking for any return.

I am willing to sacrifice for others even if others don’t.

I am willing to give time for them even if they don’t.

Is there something that wrong with me?