Todayβs not just another day. Todayβs the anniversary of my motherβs death. Not my biological mother. My fatherβs sister. The woman who raised me. The woman who saved me. After my dad passed when I was 2, and my biological mother couldnβt care for us, we were thrown into the system β orphanage, foster care β while Michele fought for us. Fought for me. She thought of everyone else first. She worked her fingers to the bone. She took us in after raising her own kids β after already helping to raise others' children after loss. She was the glue. She was the rock. She was the woman who held it all togetherβ¦ ...and lost herself in the process. When she died two years ago, something inside me snapped. I couldn't just celebrate her. I couldnβt just mourn her. I was angry. Angry that she let herself disappear. Angry that she made herself small to make everyone elseβs life bigger. Angry that I had no idea what her dreams even were. She was a free spirit locked inside invisible bars made of other peopleβs expectations β and she never fought her way out. And when she passed, I realized something gut-wrenching: I was walking the same damn path. Putting everyone first. Silencing my own voice. Sacrificing my own health, dreams, energy β and calling it "love." It wasn't love. It was martyrdom. And it ends with resentment, not legacy. So I changed. I decided to fight for myself β on purpose. I decided to put my health first β without apology. I decided to lead by example, not obligation. I decided that being a mother, a woman, a partner, a human β does NOT mean living on the back burner. That lie stops with me. Now, I live differently. Now, I draw the line in the sand. Now, I show up for others by first showing up for myself. I lead by standing tall β not by collapsing into sacrifice. I used to be angry with her. Now Iβm grateful beyond measure. Because her selflessness taught me to become self-full. Not empty. Not angry. Not burnt out. Whole. I am strong, so that I can set the example.