Things I Stopped Doing (And Nobody Died)
I stopped talking to humans on weekends.
Saturdays and Sundays are for me, my cats, and occasionally myself. Out loud. The cats don't judge. They're just waiting for food.
I stopped explaining my "no." A friend told me "no" is a complete sentence. It's now tattooed on my brain. No. Period. Done. You don't need the why. I don't owe you the why. No.
I stopped wearing clothes that fit. Everything I own is slightly too big now, and you know what? I have never been more comfortable in my life. Fashion can fight me.
I stopped caring if you approve. I spent decades thinking I needed permission. Turns out, I didn't even need that. But here's the plot twist: I don't need your approval either. Not your nod. Not your "good for you." Nothing. I'm just over here, living.
I stopped having ambitious goals. My daily goals are now: (1) get out of bed, and (2) make sure most people's reaction to me isn't "eww." That's it. That's the bar. Some days I clear it. Some days the bar and I have a conversation.
I stopped pretending I'm not at the "get off my lawn" stage of life. I am. I'm there. The lawn is mine. Please get off it.
Here's what nobody tells you about this stage: it's not angry. It's not bitter. It's just... done. Done performing. Done explaining. Done shrinking.
And somewhere in all that stopping, I started finding her again. The woman who was always there, just buried under decades of "should" and "what will people think."
She's louder than I remembered. Funnier. Wears elastic waistbands without apology.
I like her.
What are you ready to stop doing?
