The Sacred Discipline of Choosing Myself

Dear Majestic Soul,

I have stopped mistaking exhaustion for devotion.

There was a time when I believed tenacity meant carrying everything with grace, enduring the arduous parts, and asking my body to prove what my spirit already knew. I know better now. Tenacity is not depletion dressed in pearls. Tenacity is the decision to remain loyal to yourself, especially when the world rewards overgiving and calls it strength.

Rest has become one of my most regal practices.

Rest is not indolence. Rest is discernment. Rest is the body returning to wisdom. Rest is the quiet, lucid moment when a woman says, “I have carried enough, and I will not make a crown out of my fatigue.” That kind of honesty is sacred. That kind of pause is powerful.

I have learned to be scrupulous with my energy. I no longer explain my worth to the obtuse. I no longer become despondent over what lacks reverence, reciprocity, or refinement. I can bless the table, leave the table, or build my own with better linen and better company.

This is loyalty to self: feeding your own spirit before feeding every room, honoring your own peace before accepting every invitation, and allowing your no to stand without a long, decorative explanation.

I am still graceful. I am still tender. I am still funny, because every court has its jesters, and some of them truly believe they are advisors.

But now I am clearer.

My value is not precarious. It does not rise when someone notices, nor does it fall when someone lacks discernment. I am an auspicious woman with an exacting spirit, and I have earned the right to rest, reign, and return to myself without apology.

I am the sure thing.

Not because life was gentle.

Because I remained.

Because I rested.

Because I rose.

Because I finally learned that loyalty to myself is not selfish.

It is sacred.

It is healing.

It is majestic.

—Sherley Delia