It was just another Tuesday, one of those ordinary days when the coffee grows cold before the first meeting and the body wakes up already heavy with fatigue. In the office, the therapist looked at me with that quiet composure known only to those who have weathered many storms. And then, without warning, he dropped the question that dismantled me:

— Would you lend your phone charger if your own battery were down to 3%?

I smiled, thinking it was some silly metaphor. I answered no, of course not. At 3%, the charger is my lifeline. And that was when he struck me—not with his fists, but with a naked truth:

— Then why do you spend your life lending your energy to everyone else, even when you are utterly exhausted?

I fell silent. The question reverberated inside me like distant thunder. How many times had I said “yes” when my soul screamed “no”? How many times had I been the shoulder, the ear, the unwavering support—while my own inner structure crumbled in absolute silence?

We learn early on that caring for others is noble. But no one ever teaches us that caring for oneself is an absolute necessity. That it is not selfishness to refuse, to protect oneself, to prioritize one’s own existence. That sometimes, self-love is the very charger that rescues the soul from total bankruptcy.

That day, I walked out of the therapist’s office carrying more questions than answers. Yet a quiet certainty followed me all the way home: I was running on 3%. And before I could attempt to save the world, I needed to save myself.
Ever since, I have been trying. It is not easy. Guilt always sneaks back in, cleverly disguised as responsibility. But little by little, I am learning that saying “no” is also just another way of saying “yes”—to myself.

Because no one lives with a full battery all the time. And sometimes, all we truly need is to stop, to breathe, and simply recharge. 🙏🏾❤️

© Beatriz Esmer