peace purchased with your own exhaustion isn’t peace.
It’s maintenance.
I had spent years maintaining everyone else’s comfort.
The monthly check.
Free childcare.
The unlocked door.
Extra Thanksgiving dishes.
Sunday cleanup.
None seemed terrible by itself.
That was why I tolerated them.
A plate is only a plate.
Five hundred dollars is manageable.
One surprise babysitting request doesn’t ruin a life.
One borrowed mixer can be returned.
But patterns are built from small things.
So are boundaries.
Mine began with one stack of dirty plates.
I can still picture that
