You've become the person everyone can count on.
At first, it seems like a virtue. You speak up when others are silent, you stay when others leave, you take on what no one wants, and you fix what you didn't break. People start to rely on you, and you take their trust as a confirmation of your own worth. You don't notice the moment when being dependable stops being your choice and becomes a role you no longer know how to get out of.
Over time, no one asks if you can anymore. They only remember that you could until now. Your time becomes an extension of others' needs, and your peace a place where others leave what they couldn't solve on their own. Even when you pause, you feel guilty, as if you're letting someone down by no longer being available in the same way.
You didn't get lost because you didn't know who you were. You got lost because you were what others needed for too long. You found meaning in their need for you, and so you slowly began to believe that you only have value while you're being useful. That's why rest feels like irresponsibility to you, refusal feels like betrayal, and your own boundary feels like something you have to apologize for.
To find yourself again, you don't have to abandon anyone. You just have to stop interpreting every disappointment from others as proof of your own fault. Some people won't be upset because you've changed, but because they no longer have the same access to you.
You don't have to stop being the person others can count on. But you do have to stop being the person who only exists when someone needs you.
Reshid Dervishi