(Yes, I do speak in Taylor Swift lyrics…don’t judge me)

There is a quiet moment that comes before a life changes.

It doesn’t look dramatic.
It doesn’t announce itself.
It doesn’t come with fireworks or certainty.

It comes in small realizations.

In questions you don’t ask out loud.
In pauses that feel heavier than words.
In the ache of knowing something is no longer sustainable — even if it once was.

I have spent months moving through moments of uncertainty, followed by moments of clarity. The old questions still try to find me:

What if people are angry with me?
What if they think I am difficult?
What if he hates me?

But another voice has grown louder:

What if I finally choose myself?

I am not choosing this path out of revenge.
I am choosing it because I want to feel peace again.

That may sound simple — but for people pleasers, peace is complicated.

When you’ve spent years learning how to minimize your needs, soften your voice, smooth conflict, and hold everything together, choosing peace feels almost selfish. You can be deeply hurt and still not want to cause pain. You can be exhausted and still worry about how your absence will affect everyone else.

That’s the strange paradox of being a caretaker at heart — even when someone has hurt you, you still don’t want them to feel the same hurt.

But here is the truth I can no longer avoid:

He will feel hurt.
Just not in the same ways that I did.

For eight years, I functioned as the engine in a well-oiled machine — the one who held schedules, emotions, routines, logistics, healing, and stability together. I became indispensable. Necessary. Efficient.

But not fully seen.

I wasn’t loved in the ways I needed.
I was relied on.

I was not cherished.
I was utilized.

And while I carried everything, I slowly disappeared.

I became more than tired.
I became hollow.

I became more than a partner.
I became a system.

But I am not a system.

I am not an engine.
I am not a house elf.
I am not a secretary.
I am not survival mode.

I am a human being.

And human beings are not meant to disappear inside their own lives.

I am not leaving to destroy.
I am leaving to breathe.

I am not breaking a family.
I am breaking a pattern.

I am not choosing chaos.
I am choosing life.

I am choosing where I grow.
I am choosing how I grow.

I am choosing what I will no longer carry.

This is what it means to be Wild & Rooted.

Rooted in truth.
Wild enough to walk away from what is no longer safe for your soul.

And finally —
finally —
home.