The yes that's been slowly emptying you
Every yes has a price. The most expensive ones aren't on your calendar.
The most expensive yeses in my life were never on my calendar.
They were in the kitchen at 9 PM, packing a lunch I could have asked for help with. In the group text, volunteering to organize the thing no one else stepped up for. In the mental loop of tracking whether we had enough paper towels.
Each one felt small. Responsible. Generous, even. And each one was a deposit into a resentment account I didn't know I was building.
(If that sentence landed somewhere in your chest, stay with it for a second.)
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