Healing the Parts of Me I Ignored Most

For years, I was good at taking care of everyone but myself.

If a friend needed help moving, I was there. If a co-worker needed to vent after a rough day, I listened. If my family called in the middle of the night, I answered without hesitation.

On the surface, it looked like I was doing well—always busy, always “fine.” But deep down, I was running on empty. The truth was, I didn’t know how to slow down long enough to ask myself a simple question: What do I need?

I ignored my own needs because it felt easier than facing them. I pushed through exhaustion, laughed off anxiety, and distracted myself whenever sadness crept in. I told myself it was “being strong.” But in reality, I was abandoning the parts of me that needed care the most.

The breaking point came quietly. One morning, I sat in my car before work, holding the steering wheel, unable to turn the key. I wasn’t physically sick. I wasn’t injured. I was just… empty. I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had done something just for me—not for productivity, not for someone else’s approval, but simply because it filled me with joy.

That moment scared me, but it also woke me up. I knew something had to change.

Step One: Listening to Myself

I started small. Instead of filling every quiet moment with noise—music, social media, TV—I began sitting in silence. At first, it was uncomfortable. My mind wandered to unfinished tasks and responsibilities. But slowly, I began to notice the feelings I had been ignoring: loneliness, fatigue, even a quiet longing for creativity I had buried years ago.

I realized I had spent so much time tuning into everyone else’s needs that I had completely tuned out my own inner voice. That voice wasn’t loud or demanding—it was gentle, patient, and waiting for me to finally pay attention.

Step Two: Giving Myself Permission

Healing the parts of me I had ignored wasn’t about grand gestures. It was about giving myself permission to rest, to say “no,” and to enjoy simple things without guilt.

I took walks without tracking my steps. I painted with no goal of “being good at it.” I read books just because the covers looked interesting. And when someone asked for my time on a day I desperately needed to recharge, I respectfully declined—and didn’t apologize for it.

With every small act of self-kindness, I felt pieces of myself returning, like long-lost friends showing up at my door.

Step Three: Facing the Hard Feelings

Some of the parts I had ignored weren’t just tired—they were wounded. I had old disappointments I never acknowledged, grief I never processed, and fears I never voiced.

Healing meant sitting with those feelings instead of shoving them aside. It meant letting myself cry when I needed to, journaling through difficult memories, and sometimes talking to a friend or therapist when the weight felt too heavy to carry alone.

It wasn’t easy. Some days felt like I was peeling back layers of pain I didn’t even know were there. But every time I faced a difficult truth, I felt lighter—like I had set down a heavy bag I had been unknowingly dragging for years.

Step Four: Becoming My Own Safe Place

One of the most powerful shifts came when I stopped waiting for someone else to “save” me. I realized that while love and support from others are precious, I couldn’t outsource the work of truly caring for myself.

I became intentional about speaking kindly to myself, even on bad days. I celebrated small wins. I told myself things I had always wanted to hear from others: “You’re doing enough.” “You’re allowed to rest.” “You matter.”

Slowly, I became my own safe place—someone I could trust to show up for me, no matter what.

Where I Am Now

I’m still learning. Healing isn’t a one-time project you can cross off a list—it’s a lifelong process. But I’m no longer ignoring the quiet parts of myself. I’m tending to them, listening to them, and letting them guide me.

The parts of me I ignored the most turned out to be the ones that needed the most love. And in caring for them, I’ve discovered a deeper peace than I ever thought possible.

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Thank you for reading

Best Regards: Habib