I made a promise to myself that has informed how I interact with the world: I will not apologize for who I am, nor sacrifice who I am to make others feel happy. I will own my mistakes, learn from the pain, and grow and transform. I will not apologize for any part of who I am; I will own all of it, thorns and all.
About two years ago, I started paying closer attention to how the external world dictated my identity. I was not writing my story but living in a predetermined narrative. I was the “good girl” who was obedient. I listened and performed according to expectations, and almost never thought about what I wanted. When someone said “jump,” I said, “How high?”
My life existed on a very strict schedule, adhering to the lives of everyone around me. I wanted to make my friends and family feel important and happy, and, because of that core desire, I lost sight of my feelings of importance and happiness.
I was living on autopilot, detached from every part of me, and completely physically and mentally exhausted. In a moment where I had no energy or desire left within me to ask,
“How high?” I said, “I cannot.”
The response was, “Fine. If you want to be selfish and not care about anyone else, do what you want.”
My heartbeat and thoughts raced in chaotic unison as I lost my ability to control my breath, and tears streamed down my face. As I sat there, knees pulled into my chest, I kept repeating over and over again to myself, “I am so sorry. I don’t do not want to be selfish. I’m so tired. I don’t do not know what I want.” And after hearing myself say, “I don’t do not know what I want” again and again, it hit me. I don’t do not know what I want; I never asked myself.
Until now, I did not know I could want something, because I only operated to satisfy others’ expectations. And, in all the moments I fell short, I was consumed by guilt, forming the narrative of never being good enough and always being the problem. Yet, the truth was completely different. I wasn’t was neither the villain nor the main character. I was just a girl trying to fit into a story that never belonged to her.
I lived through two decades of being told who to be, being laughed at and teased when I did not fit in, and desperately trying to be perceived as good enough. I exerted every ounce of energy within me, trying to hold myself together, tied together like a perfect bow so no one would see what was beneath the smile. I said, “Yes,” and “I will,” never stopping to think there was an alternative answer. When I first started learning about self-care and identifying my own needs, I dabbled with the idea of listening to myself. When I started to look within, I slowly found little remnants of myself hiding within the identity I took on. I started to see the origin of the thought patterns telling me to follow the rules and fit into the boxes.
In a desperate moment, I opened a notebook and without thinking first, put pen to paper and wrote what I wish I could say:
“That is not your decision to make. You do not get to tell me how or when I can breathe. You don’t do not get to dictate my existence. You don’t do not get to control my narrative anymore.”
It turned out that I was living in opposition. A part of me wanted to be loved, and she viewed love as acceptance and validation from others – she was the obedient people-pleaser. The other part of me wanted to be seen and heard; she viewed being seen and heard as knowing herself – she was bold and assertive. Contentment and inner peace could never exist if my brain constantly fought over which role to play. I had to differentiate the desire to be loved from the desire to love myself.
I turned my scars – the insecurity, pain, loss of self – into a shield. This shield does not prevent access or burn bridges; it protects me from myself and others. I am learning to do what I need to do to protect my sense of balance and calmness.
Honestly, in the beginning, when I started to develop assertiveness and transform from people-pleasing to individualization, I was not very good at regulating my emotions. The rejection of an identity forced upon me was often presented with anger and aggression. I would yell and pick a verbal argument to win. I thought the goal was to win, and even when I “won” the argument, I was not happy. There was no sense of balance, no calmness within me, and no calmness outside of me. I often did not know what I wanted; I did not want anyone else to tell me what to do. (I DO NOT LIKE TO ADMIT IT!!) Most of the time, I did the exact opposite of what someone told me I should do to prove a point. Initially, it was not about connecting with myself, but rather separating myself, which brought me further and further from who I am. Looking in the mirror, I did not recognize the reflection. I saw a shadow of Francesca, an emptiness behind her eyes, confusion within her expression, a total disconnect. At that moment, I knew I had to make a change.
It was true that many others did not know what I had been through, and I had survived worse than this. AND, it was also true that survival was an instinct, not a choice. I survived yet never chose to be present in each moment I made it to and through.
You are probably thinking: Well, what did you do? It is an ongoing process, which I have been working on for a while now (even wrote a workbook guide on it). Here are some of the biggest lessons I have learned so far.
Lesson 1: Checking In: Is this what I WANT?
Living on autopilot, I rarely interacted with the world. I existed within the manifestation of the world crafted by others around me. Naturally, I followed the path laid out with no questions. I did what I was supposed to do based on external conditioning from the people and society around me. I led with fear, living in a space where chaos was the norm, and every part of me was lost. I did not know I mattered – my opinion, voice, desires, and wants – I did not even know they existed outside of who I was told to be, what I was told to do, and how I was expected to do it. I was taught to fear the consequences whenever I tried to articulate something or act outside of the walls that contained me. I became afraid of losing people, disregarding the fact that I was losing myself more and more each day.
For the first time, I asked myself what I want, not what you, they, or society wanted of and for me, just me. I mattered—what I wanted mattered. Today, when making decisions, I make my needs part of the decision—they are not an afterthought or opportunity cost but worth protecting.
I remind myself, “I am not afraid of losing people, I am afraid of losing myself. My inner peace, my sense of balance and calmness, comes first.” This did not mean I was destroying my relationships and never thinking of other people’s feelings. It meant I chose to build my life FOR ME to open up space to build authentic, mutual relationships. My shield is the barrier that protects my inner peace; it blocks what does not serve me while letting in what feels right. It does not and will not hurt others; it allows us to grow through life together. It is about us, a world where we do not just co-exist; instead, we build and create the paths that bring us a sense of peace, flourishing together without existing only for each other.
Questions I ask myself when making a decision:
Is this what I want? Did it come from within me or a voice outside of me? Is it a should or a desire?
How does this serve me? Does this feel aligned with my values? Is it an action with intention or expectation?
Does it harm others? Is it a healthy boundary or an excuse to isolate?
Is the shield an extra layer of protection for my inner peace, or is it becoming a wall?
What do I really want? If nothing else mattered, what would I do? If I were living for myself?
How do I use my shield to prioritize my inner peace and build meaningful relationships without sacrificing any part of me?
Although I know the questions to ask myself and actively practice them, it still takes time. I am still learning to distinguish between my “wants” and the “should” running through my brain. My shield is slowly gaining strength to protect my inner peace, welcome what nourishes me, and block the chaos that pulls me away from myself.
Lesson 2: Saying “NO” Without Guilt
With a shield that blocks the turmoil from unbalancing my serenity and detaching me from myself comes the word “NO.” As a people-pleasing human being, the word “NO” is daunting, to say the least. It was usually followed by guilt and endless ruminating thoughts of not being good enough or being wrong.
I quickly realized that guilt was an emotion I struggled to prevent (DOES ANYONE EVER OUTGROW THE FEELING?!); however, it did not mean I was wrong. It means I am choosing myself, which is new and uncomfortable because I never did before. My worth and identity were not tied to making everyone else happy. My shield was never about rejecting others; it was about rejecting actions and ideas that made me feel less. I dictate my worth, and self-respect is the most important component of the equation.
If I did not want to do something and not doing it did not cause any true harm, the word “NO” was absolutely part of my vocabulary. I did not have to justify, apologize, and over-explain myself. I could say “NO” because I am choosing to protect my energy. Rejecting expectations, changing behaviors, identifying values, and discovering myself taught me that not everyone will appreciate my individualization journey. Someone else’s disapproval of my true self did not dictate my worth, decrease my value, or decide I am wrong. My shield is what protects me from allowing that into my space. Those within my space respected me AS MUCH AS I respected them. We chose to be friends because we appreciate who each other is at our core, and we understand when we say “NO,” it truly means no.
Now, I remind myself that guilt is not the emotion of being wrong. Can I feel guilty when I do something wrong? Absolutely—that is what helps me develop my morals! When my actions are wrong, I own it. I do not pretend to be sanctimonious or assign blame to anyone or anything else. I admit it, I apologize, and I try to correct it. AND, I never identify myself as wrong – my actions are wrong.
Guilt does not influence my identity or self-worth; it guides me to better understand myself and my actions. Am I serving myself, my values, my goals, and my relationships healthily, or am I tearing myself and others down? This question helps me identify the role guilt plays.
Questions I ask myself when saying “NO?”
What is the cost of saying “NO?” Is it preserving my energy and peace, or malicious toward others?
Does saying “NO” align with my shield to allow pieces of serenity and nourishment in, or does it prevent me from developing meaningful relationships?
Am I saying “NO” out of fear, or am I leading with self-respect?
What would saying “YES” mean? Does it disrupt my balance or open me to new experiences and growth? Am I preventing the unknown because it is uncomfortable, or am I choosing myself?
Saying “NO” still feels hard sometimes. It can feel like I am betraying someone, and cause feelings of guilt. It can even feel like I am being selfish, putting myself first. I remind myself that “NO” does not have to be malicious or vindictive. It does not have to be about punishing someone else or getting even. “NO” can be self-awareness and self-preservation. “NO” can be the start to finding, loving, and respecting myself.
The moments of guilt that come along are not indicative of being wrong; mostly, it is a side effect of finally choosing me. And, I am ok with that, even when it feels hard. I will not apologize for who I am. I will not risk losing myself again. I am using my shield because my inner peace and calmness deserve to be guarded with intention.
Lesson 3: A Bridge to “Us”
This last lesson is short and powerful. My shield is my boundaries. It is not a wall that pushes people away. It is a line that shows others how to be part of my life without tearing me down.
It is meant to protect me while allowing us to form meaningful connections built on trust and authenticity. It also means that I must respect the lines of others. In other words, communication and honesty are key to building the bridge that passes the shield. It is a path that leads to growth, never intended to shut someone out. Protecting my inner peace is my priority, which means people and things that enact that peace and help maintain my balance are a priority too.
Questions I ask myself when building the bridge:
Does the bridge lead to more peace and harmony, or does it create chaos?
Am I communicating what respect looks like or expecting someone else just to know?
Am I listening to what respect looks like for others, or am I only thinking about my needs in our relationship? Is it mutual or one-sided?
Does it bring happiness or take away from my identity?
Protecting my inner peace with my shield sometimes feels like isolation. Sometimes I worry if I am isolating myself to protect myself or hide myself. In these moments, I remind myself that my shield is about inner peace, and many people and things in my life are part of my inner peace. I can build the bridge and later put the shield back up if it is tearing me down or detaching me from myself. It is never about ruining my relationships. It is about creating mutual relationships that are meaningful and authentic. It is about creating a world where I am not a supporting character in the background, and I am seen and heard. My existence matters—not to please others, and what I want matters—not what I am told to want or be.
I deserve to take up space. My value is not dictated by anyone else. My inner peace, my sense of balance, and my calmness matter. Above all, I am worth protecting. And friend, so are you.
Starting today, I am my own knight in shining armor, using my shield to choose myself and protect my inner peace.
