I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what other people needed me to be. The fixer. The reliable one. The friend who always reached out first, the sister who dropped everything to help, the one who bent over backward just to feel wanted.
And for what?
To be left out of plans by friends who no longer seemed to care.
To be guilt-tripped by family when I set even the smallest boundary.
To be exhausted, drained, and questioning my worth because no matter how much I gave, it never felt like enough.
I have a friend I considered family recently slip away, back into a life of chaos. She’d been pulling away for a while, making everything about her struggles, never asking me how im doing. For a solid year I had the fix it, be there, show up no matter what mentality. If I could just get her to understand… to stop… to get help….
And then theres my brother. He had always been reckless, always counting on me to clean up his messes. And for years, I did. I covered for him. I loaned him money. I made excuses for his behavior. But last week, when I finally told him I couldn’t bail him out anymore, he snapped.
“You’re selfish,” he spat.
That one hurt. A lot. Because the truth was, I had spent my whole life caring about everyone else.
The other night, I found myself spiraling—deep in the trenches of self-doubt, wondering why I was never enough for people to choose me the way I chose them. And then, while mindlessly scrolling on my phone, I stumbled across a clip of Mel Robbins talking about something called The Let Them Theory.
“If people want to leave you out? Let them.”
“If they don’t invite you? Let them.”
“If they don’t support you? Let them.”
"People assuming your intent? Let them.”
At first, it sounded too simple. Too passive. Wasn’t I supposed to fight for people? Prove myself? Try harder?
But the more I listened, the more it hit me: People’s actions are a reflection of them, not me.
If my friend didn’t want to put in effort to maintain our friendship, why was I trying so hard to force it?
If my brother only valued me when I was doing things for him, was that really love?
If someone didn’t see my worth, why was I exhausting myself to convince them?
What would happen if I just… let them?
Let friends pull away.
Let them spiral.
Let them make their choices and live with the consequences.
Let my brother be upset.
Let people make their choices—because their choices had nothing to do with my value.
So, I decided to try it. The next morning, I didn’t send my friend another “How are you doing today? Anything I can help with?” text. I didn’t apologize to my brother for setting a boundary. Instead, I went for a long walk, bought myself a coffee, and reminded myself that I was worthy—not because of what I did for others, but because of who I was.
And for the first time in my life, I let go.
I let them.
And in doing so, I chose me.
If youre interested in this life changing theory (seriously Ive been thinking about getting it tattooed on me) check out Mels website https://www.melrobbins.com/ and listen into her podcast!
ITS SO SIMPLE. Yet so effective