$pent Millennial

Dear Reader,

It’s not you. It’s me.

I used to imagine that line only belonged in breakups. A way to soften the blow, to reassure the other person that they weren’t at fault. That they had done nothing wrong. That it just wasn’t a fit.

It always felt like something said to keep the peace—even if it wasn’t entirely true.

But lately, I’ve started to understand it differently.

It’s not about someone being blameless, or about shifting blame. It’s about realizing that the decision really is more about me than it is about them.

Because sometimes the healthiest thing we can do is admit:

It’s not you. It’s me choosing to step away from toxic patterns that I’ve outgrown.

It’s not you. It’s me realizing my commitments no longer fit the life I’m building.

It’s not you. It’s me deciding to keep my own peace, even if it means disappointing you.

This isn’t about selfishness—it’s about honesty and loyalty to ourselves. It’s about recognizing when something no longer serves us, and being brave enough to say so.

So maybe “It’s not you, it’s me” doesn’t have to be a cop-out. Maybe it can be a declaration. A choice to stay true to yourself, even when it means letting something—or someone—go.

When those moments come—when you feel the tug to keep saying yes, to keep the peace at your own expense—I hope you’ll practice noticing. Name it. Say to yourself: This isn’t about them, it’s about me. And then, I hope you will build the muscles to do what you need to – for you. 

Because choosing yourself doesn’t always look big or dramatic. Sometimes it’s as simple as closing the laptop, skipping the extra obligation, or not explaining yourself one more time.

When we let ourselves down—even in small ways—when we abandon our needs, our values, our peace, we stop trusting ourselves. Just like in any relationship, the little betrayals add up. And the relationship with ourselves? That’s the one we can’t walk away from. Because, as the saying goes: Wherever you go, there you are.

Lately, I’ve started to feel loss of parts of myself I don’t want to lose—the stubborn, strong-willed 11-year-old who knew how to speak up, draw lines, and be unapologetically herself. 

Losing touch with these parts doesn’t happen all at once. It happens in small choices. Which means I can choose, in small ways, to honor and acknowledge her- to keep her with me. 

We have to keep choosing ourselves, or we risk losing ourselves. 

So, Dear Reader—for me, it’s gotta be me. And for you, it’s gotta be you.

Until next week- take care and choose you, 

Everett

P.S. In honor of that 11-year-old me, I dug up a photo from that age(ish). You’ll find it in today’s post. (Excuse the blur :))