The Deadly Disease That Almost Destroyed Me 💀

They say the most dangerous diseases are the ones you don’t even know you have—the silent killers. I suffered from two of them. The first one was a slow poison, creeping into my life disguised as something noble. It made me a magnet for people—friends, family, even enemies who acted like allies. For five long years, I didn’t know it was eating me alive from the inside out.

It consumed me by making me believe I had to be everything for everyone. I poured my time, energy, and resources into others, bending over backward just to be liked, accepted, and validated. I thought it was kindness, compassion—selflessness. But it wasn’t. It was slow, self-inflicted destruction. The more I gave, the more people took. And the more they took, the less of myself remained.

At first, it felt good. It felt right. I was needed, appreciated—at least, that’s what I told myself. But slowly, the cracks showed. I felt drained and unfulfilled. People only came around when they needed something. I became a convenience, not a friend. The disease hid behind the illusion of virtue while it bled me dry. I realized, too late, that I was chasing acceptance at the cost of my own happiness.

Then came the breaking point—exhausted, bitter, and empty, I decided enough was enough. I needed a cure. I had to reclaim my life. Setting boundaries was terrifying, but necessary. Saying “no” felt selfish, but it was salvation. I had to learn that I was not obligated to save everyone, that my worth was not defined by what I did for others.

The cure came slowly, painfully. It was liberating but costly. I lost people—friends who only stayed when it suited them. They accused me of changing, of abandoning them, but in truth, I had just stopped sacrificing myself. I was free.

But freedom came with a price. The cure revealed a new affliction—one I didn’t expect. It was a disease of solitude. People left. Friends drifted away. Family misunderstood me. Enemies sharpened their knives. I was alone, but for once, it was my choice. I learned to sit with myself, to accept who I was without the need for validation. I discovered strength in solitude.

This new condition brought clarity. I realized that some people are in your life for a season—temporary companions who teach you lessons before they leave. I stopped clinging to people who weren’t meant to stay. I understood that real strength comes from within, from valuing yourself enough to walk away from toxicity. The disease wasn’t a curse; it was a blessing in disguise.

But there was a side effect—judgment. Those who once praised my selflessness now called me selfish, arrogant, and distant. They said I wasn’t the BOND they knew. But their words no longer held power. I had tasted freedom, and I was never going back.

If you’re still suffering, ask yourself: Are you happy living for others? Will you ever be enough for people who only care when it suits them? Freedom comes when you stop expecting, start accepting, and choose yourself. It’s not selfish—it’s survival.

Oh, and about those diseases—funny how life works. The first one was People-Pleasing, and the second? Zero Expectations. One disguised itself as kindness, and the other as strength. But together, they revealed the truth: living for yourself is the cure, even if it feels like a disease to those who want to keep using you.

It’s 3 a.m., and my dreams are calling. It’s time to live for me now—truly, freely, and without apology. I hope you find your cure too before the disease takes over.

Because some diseases are only fatal if you let them be.