June 3, 2025
I was taught not to choose myself.
Not in the dramatic, villainous way—no one sat me down and said, “You don’t matter.” But in the subtle, everyday ways that sink in deep: when I was praised for being serviceful, “motherly”, for putting others first, for being “low maintenance.” When I was told that a good woman sacrifices, that her worth is measured by how much she gives, how little she asks for.
So, I didn’t ask. I didn’t take up space. I didn’t choose me.
Then I came across Emily Nagoski’s garden metaphor in her book Come As You Are. She describes our minds as gardens, planted with seeds by our families, cultures, and societies. Some seeds are beautiful—love, resilience, curiosity. Others are weeds: “Women must be selfless,” “Your needs are too much,” “You’re only valuable if you’re useful.”
We didn’t choose these seeds. But now, as adults, we can decide which ones to water, which to pull out, and which new seeds to plant.
Let that sink in for a moment.
You get to choose what to believe. You get to choose what you let grow in your garden.
This metaphor gave me permission to examine the beliefs I held and to understand that they weren’t inherently mine. I could choose to nurture the ones that served me and uproot the ones that didn’t.
This process isn’t just poetic—it’s scientific. Our brains are capable of neuroplasticity, meaning they can form new neural connections throughout our lives. By repeatedly practicing new thoughts and behaviors, we can strengthen these new pathways, making them our default responses over time.
This means that every time I affirm, “I am allowed to take up space,” I’m not just saying words—I’m physically reshaping my brain.
I’m still tending to my garden. Some weeds are stubborn, their roots deep. But I’m learning to be patient, to celebrate the blooms, and to keep planting seeds of self-worth, joy, and authenticity.
Choosing myself isn’t a one-time act—it’s a daily practice. And every day, it gets a little easier.
If you’re on a journey to reclaim your space, your voice, your self—I’d love to walk alongside you. Let’s nurture your garden together.
[…] Learn more about how I am learning to choose myself here. […]
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