Slower, Wealthier, Happier

I used to think support looked like someone showing up exactly the way I needed them to, without me having to say a word.

Anticipate me.
Read the room.
Notice when I’m overwhelmed and offer help before I collapse.
Show up with a plan.
Take something off my plate.

And honestly… part of that still holds true.

But over time, I’ve realized that so much of what I called “support” was really a silent hope for someone to save me from saying what I needed.

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I Didn’t Always Know How to Ask for Help

There were seasons in my life when I didn’t ask.
I just waited.

Waited for someone to check in.
Waited for someone to notice I was carrying too much.
Waited for the magical moment where I could let go, without feeling guilty, without having to explain.

But the truth is:
Waiting is not the same as communicating.
And silence is not the same as strength.

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Support Started to Look Different When I Started to Change

As I began embracing a softer, slower, more intentional life…
My needs shifted.
My standards shifted.
I shifted.

And suddenly, “support” wasn’t just about help—it was about alignment.

Support started to look like:

• Friends who respected my new pace without making it a thing
  
• Conversations that didn’t rush me to be “on” when I needed rest
  
• People who didn’t take offense when I said no, or not now, or not this time
  
• Partners who asked, “What does support look like for you right now?”
  

Support became less about the performance of showing up, and more about the presence of understanding who I’m becoming.

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I Had to Let Go of Support That Was Still Rooted in My Old Self

Here’s the part nobody talks about:

When you change—
When your values shift—
When you stop performing, overgiving, and overexplaining…

Some of the support you were used to will no longer fit.

Not because they’re bad people.
Not because you’re ungrateful.
But because they’re still responding to a version of you that no longer exists.

And I had to make peace with that.

Because holding on to outdated support—out of loyalty, out of guilt, out of fear—only left me feeling more unseen.

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I Had to Learn How to Teach People How to Support Me

It wasn’t just about letting people go.
It was also about inviting new forms of connection.

I had to start saying things like:

• “I love you, but I need space before I can talk about that.”
  
• “Can you check in on me in a few days? I’m still processing.”
  
• “Help me stay accountable to what I said I wanted—even when I forget.”
  
• “I don’t need fixing. I just need to be held.”
  

That was hard.
Because asking can feel vulnerable.
And being misunderstood can feel like rejection.

But I’m learning that the right people want to support you—they just need to know how.

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Support Looks Like Alignment, Not Just Action

I’m no longer impressed by people who rush to “do.”
I’m more grateful for the ones who pause to ask,
“What does support mean to you in this moment?”

Sometimes support is a meal.
Sometimes it’s silence.
Sometimes it’s a check-in, a boundary, a laugh, a push, or a nap.

Support, in this season, looks like:

• Emotional availability without urgency
  
• Respect for my no
  
• Curiosity about my needs
  
• Consistency without codependency
  

And most of all?

Support looks like me supporting myself first.

Not in isolation. Not with pride. But with intentionality.

Because when I honor what I need, I can invite others to do the same.

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Let’s Talk About It

How has your definition of support changed as you’ve grown?

Drop a comment and tell me:
What does support actually look like for you right now?

You don’t have to settle for support that no longer fits.
You’re allowed to reimagine it.
You’re allowed to communicate it.
You’re allowed to receive it with ease.

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