BLOG SERIES: The Twelve Pages of My Own Cheerleader
PAGE 6 — Memoir Shard: The Carer Who Forgot Herself
I was always the one who showed up.
The helper.
The fixer.
The woman who could be counted on, no matter what it cost her.
I learned early that my value lived in what I could give, not in who I was.
So I gave everything.
Time.
Energy.
Sleep.
Pieces of myself I didn’t realise were disappearing.
Hypervigilance disguised itself as kindness.
People called me reliable, strong, selfless —
but underneath, I was exhausted in ways no one could see.
I didn’t know then that caring for everyone else had quietly erased me.
I didn’t know that my body would eventually revolt.
I didn’t know that forgetting myself would become the most dangerous habit of all.
It took menopause, neurodivergence, and the collapse of my old life to show me the truth:
I had been carrying everyone for so long that I no longer recognised the weight.
I was already becoming my own cheerleader — I just didn’t know it yet.
Footnote: Twelve future chapters for a book.

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