They say I should’ve left sooner.
Should’ve known better.
Should’ve read the signs.

But they don’t know how I love —
full force,
all in,
even when it hurt.

I stayed in that job long after it stopped seeing me.
Poured into people holding only empty hands.
Tried to fix what was never mine to heal.

And when it all fell apart,
they called it weakness.
I carried it like shame.

But I see it now —
that wasn’t weakness.
That was love.
That was loyalty.
That was the kind of bravery
they don’t write about in leadership books.

The kind of brave
that doesn’t need applause —
only the quiet truth
that I showed up.
That I stayed.
That I tried.

And maybe I stayed too long.
But damn…
I stayed with heart.
I stayed when it was hard.
I stayed while I was breaking.

I used to rush to be grateful for the shame,
like forgiving it fast enough
would stop the sting.

But I don’t have to be grateful
for betrayal,
for staying too long,
for breaking my own heart
just to keep the peace.

I only have to understand it.
See what it showed me.

Because shame didn’t destroy me —
it revealed me.
It peeled me open,
forced me to sit with myself,
made me ask the hard questions.

And when I finally let myself be vulnerable,
I realized what I’d been carrying all along
wasn’t weakness,
wasn’t failure,
just shame —
shame I never had words for.

And naming it?
That was the beginning of healing.
That’s when I started seeing myself clearly.
That’s when brave began.

Each time I answered honestly,
I became a little braver —
not because I wanted to be,
but because I had to be.

That’s the thing about shame:
If you let it,
it will teach you who you are beneath it all.

And that person?
She’s not broken.
She’s not too much.
She’s not a fool.