THE WOMAN WHO FORGOT HERSELF
She doesn’t remember the exact day she started doing it—
giving a little more, asking a little less.
It wasn’t a conscious choice.
It was just… how she is.
She pours love into the cracks of her home
so no one else trips.
She says “I’ll do it,” before anyone else asks.
She buys gifts quietly,
cancels her own plans,
saves money for others but not for herself.
And when someone says,
“Let me do this for you,”
she flinches—
like love offered to her is too much to carry.
She doesn’t do it to prove anything.
She’s not chasing approval.
It’s just the rhythm she inherited—
from a mother who built a home with her bare hands,
from a world that told women like her
that softness is strength only when it serves others.
But lately,
on quiet afternoons or tearful nights,
a whisper rises in her chest:
“What if one day, you disappear?”
What if the love you give becomes an expectation?
What if your kindness becomes background noise?
What if the people you held up forget to look back
and ask, “Who’s holding you?”
She fears being overshadowed—
by her husband,
by her in-laws,
maybe even her children.
She fears becoming the woman
who ran the whole show
but never took a bow.
But here’s the truth she needs to write into her skin:
You are not here just to be a background song.
You are the story.
You are the poem.
You are the light.
Your giving heart is a gift, yes—
but it’s not a reason to disappear.
You deserve to be visible,
loved out loud,
chosen—not just needed.
So today, just a little,
she will stop.
She will rest.
She will say no without guilt.
She will let herself receive.
And slowly,
she’ll remember:
She was never meant to be forgotten.
She was meant to shine.
