Crow and Flame

There is a version of you that will sit in a hospital room until three in the morning because someone you love is hurting.

A version of you that will write letters, make phone calls, challenge systems, fight insurance companies, attend meetings, hold hands through grief, celebrate tiny victories, and refuse to give up on another human being.

You know how to fight.

You know how to advocate.

You know how to become relentless when someone else’s life, dignity, or well-being is on the line.

So why is it so much harder when the person who needs defending is you?

Many of us have spent years believing our needs are negotiable. We learned that being “easy,” “strong,” or “selfless” kept the peace. We became experts at anticipating everyone else’s needs while quietly abandoning our own.

We apologize for taking up space.

We stay silent when someone crosses a boundary.

We convince ourselves that exhaustion is simply the price of being dependable.

We accept crumbs because asking for more feels selfish.

Somewhere along the way, we began treating ourselves as though we were less worthy of protection than everyone else.

But imagine this.

Imagine if you defended your own peace the way you defend your best friend.

Imagine if you spoke to yourself with the same compassion you offer strangers.

Imagine if you believed your pain deserved attention before it became a crisis.

What would change?

Advocating for yourself is not selfish. It is stewardship.

It is saying, My body deserves rest.

My voice deserves to be heard.

My boundaries deserve to be respected.

My dreams deserve the same encouragement I give everyone else’s.

Sometimes self-advocacy looks dramatic.

It is leaving the relationship.

Changing careers.

Walking away from environments that slowly convince you that you are too much or not enough.

Other times, it is beautifully ordinary.

Scheduling the doctor’s appointment you’ve postponed.

Asking for help.

Saying, “No.”

Eating lunch instead of working through it.

Taking a day off without apologizing.

Going to therapy.

Picking up the paintbrush.

Writing the story.

Going for the walk.

Choosing sleep over productivity.

These small acts become declarations.

They say, I matter.

For years I spent my life advocating for children, families, hospice patients, caregivers, and survivors. I fought systems that overlooked people. I stood beside individuals during some of the hardest moments of their lives.

What I didn’t always realize was how rarely I offered that same fierce loyalty to myself.

I ignored my own exhaustion.

I minimized my own pain.

I believed I could keep pouring from an empty vessel if I simply tried harder.

Eventually, life taught me what compassion never could.

You cannot endlessly rescue everyone else while abandoning yourself.

The same person who deserves your kindness when they are struggling also exists in your own mirror.

That person deserves your protection too.

So today, ask yourself one question:

If someone I loved were living my life, what would I want for them?

Would you tell them to keep accepting disrespect?

To ignore their health?

To silence their creativity?

To never ask for help?

Of course not.

You would fight for them.

You would remind them of their worth.

You would insist they deserved joy, rest, healing, and hope.

Offer yourself that same gift.

Become the person who stands beside yourself with unwavering loyalty.

Become your own advocate.

Not because you matter more than others—

but because you matter, too.