Yesterday—30th June 2025—brought with it a moment I didn’t quite expect, but perhaps needed more than I realised. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was the kind of moment that slips in quietly—like a soft whisper nudging you to pause, sit still, and take stock. And I did.
Maybe it was the weight of the date itself—the final day of June, the closing chapter of the first half of the year, the end of Q2, and the finish line of the government’s fiscal calendar with all the intensity it carries. There was so much to do and even more to process. But somewhere in the middle of all that motion, something deeper surfaced. A quiet realisation, one that reminded me just how much of myself I’ve been giving away.
My time. My energy. My presence. My peace. Probably even my health.
I’ve poured out, stretched thin, stayed up late (many times stayed up all night), woken up early than most, and worked long after the room was empty—just to make sure everything and everyone around me was okay. I’ve given in places where I wasn’t always seen, stretched for people who rarely noticed, and showed up in ways that have quietly cost me more than I admitted.
The thing is, I’ve always given my all—because that’s just who I am. When I commit, I show up fully, not halfway and not just when it’s convenient. So I wasn’t doing any of it for praise or recognition but I did it because I believe in giving my best to anything I touch. Fully. But it still hurt to realise how easily that level of effort became normalised—how people started to expect it without acknowledging it. Over time, what was once me going above and beyond slowly became what people assumed I’d always do, no questions asked. That realisation was sobering. But in that same breath, it gave me something powerful: clarity. And with clarity comes the gift of choice.
What better time to make that choice than today—the first day of July, the first day of the second half of the year, the start of Quarter 3… a Tuesday, and as I like calling it, Choose Day.
So today, I choose differently. I choose to honour my limits. To take care of what I often push aside—me.
I will still show up. I will still pour. I will still lead and give and build—because I know what I bring to the table, and I still intend to bring it. But I will no longer do so by shrinking myself in the process. I will not bend myself into discomfort just to keep others comfortable.
If it’s time to rest, I will rest.
If it’s time to run, I will run.
If I need silence, I will embrace it—without guilt, without apology.
I owe that to myself.
And I know I’m not the only one.
Maybe you’ve been giving so much of yourself behind the scenes, carrying weight no one sees, doing more than what’s in your job description, or your role as a friend, parent, partner, or leader. Maybe you’ve been sacrificing in silence, hoping someone would notice—and now that you’ve realised they haven’t, you’re wondering if any of it even mattered. It did. It does.
But that realisation doesn’t mean you stop giving. It means you start giving better. With boundaries. With awareness. With wisdom.
I’m reminded of that story—the one about the speaker who held up a crisp $20 bill, asked who wanted it, then crumpled it, stomped on it, and held it up again. Despite its crumpled and dirty state, hands still went up. Why? Because its value never changed. And the message was simple: what’s valuable remains valuable, no matter what it’s been through.
And that’s the reminder I’m carrying into this new season: My value hasn’t changed. Neither has yours.
Even if we feel crumpled, stepped on, or overlooked, we are still worthy, still capable and still enough. So if today feels like a turning point for you, take it. Choose yourself—not selfishly, but deliberately. Not to abandon others, but to stop abandoning yourself. And when people begin to say, “You’ve changed,” just smile because you really haven’t changed...
You’ve simply stopped doing the things they took for granted.
Things they never paused to appreciate.
Things you gave freely, even when it quietly cost you.
You’re still you, but you’ve just decided to honour you too.
Because self-neglect is not a virtue, and self-sacrifice without balance is not love.
And if you’re reading this from the other side—maybe you’re the one who has been consistently supported, uplifted, covered, or carried without ever stopping to think about what it’s costing someone else—here’s your gentle nudge: Don’t wait for absence to teach you the value of presence.
People don’t always ask for much. Sometimes all they want is to feel seen, appreciated, and respected. I know I do. The ones who always show up may not say a word, but that doesn’t mean they’re okay. Don’t assume they’ll always be there, or that their strength is infinite.
So as we step into this new half of the year, take stock not just of what you’ve achieved—but who helped make it possible. And don’t just acknowledge them in your mind. Say something. Do something. Gratitude only matters when it's expressed. Because while consistency is a gift, it should never be mistaken for obligation.
So as we start this second half of the year, may we do so with fresh clarity and honest reflection.
To those who give, give but not to the point of self-neglect.
To those who receive, receive but never take anyone’s effort for granted.
Let this season be the one where we honour the givers and remind the receivers that nothing is ever just automatic. Someone is choosing to show up. Someone is choosing to sacrifice. Someone is choosing to care.
So here’s to choosing differently.
To choosing softer.
To choosing wiser.
To choosing you.
And to choosing to see the people you’ve stopped seeing.
Wishing every one of you a very productive second half of the year.
Be Ignited. Be Inspired. Be Influenced. Become the best version of yourself you can ever be.
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