What It Means to Build Your Own Stability
How a childhood of absence taught me that independence is not isolation, but the foundation for meaningful connection.
I grew up with a single mother who was not always present, and much of the stability in my childhood came from my grandfather. He took care of my brother and me in the ways that mattered most. He showed up consistently, handled responsibility without hesitation, and modeled what it meant to be dependable when life felt uncertain.
One lesson he repeated often stayed with me over the years: you need to be able to take care of yourself, because no one is coming to save you.
At the time, it sounded like practical advice. In hindsight, it became a foundation for how I approach my life. It was never meant to distance me from others or create fear around relationships. It reinforced something quieter and more enduring—that capability and self-trust are essential forms of stability.
For a long time, I struggled with how to talk about my background. Stories that include absence or instability are often interpreted as confessions of victimhood, regardless of the speaker’s intent. When I shared my experience honestly, people sometimes assumed I was asking for sympathy or framing my life through hardship. That was never the goal. I was offering context.
We are all shaped by different circumstances—by what happened and by what did not. Those conditions influence how we learn responsibility, trust, and independence. Difficulty alone does not define a person, but it does shape how resilience, foresight, and adaptability develop over time.
There were periods of my life that were genuinely difficult, and I don’t minimize that reality. Those experiences left lasting memories, but they also taught me responsibility early. They required me to plan ahead, self-regulate, and remain steady when things felt unpredictable. The lessons didn’t come from suffering itself, but from the responsibility required to function within uncertainty. If those experiences were erased, the person I am today would not exist. I value the clarity, discipline, and independence that emerged from that process.
Supporting myself is not about rejecting connection or refusing help. I care deeply about the people around me and value mutual support. For me, independence establishes a baseline, not a barrier. It means my sense of safety, fulfillment, and direction does not depend on someone else staying, choosing me, or stepping in to manage my life.
This orientation allows relationships to be entered by choice rather than necessity, and generosity to come from stability instead of obligation.
That mindset extends into both the practical and symbolic parts of my life. I like earning my own money, paying for my own life, and knowing that if I want something, I have the ability to work toward it and provide it for myself. That includes things that are meaningful rather than essential.
A simple example: I enjoy buying myself diamond rings. They are not about excess or proving worth. They are about authorship and agency. They represent the idea that celebration, security, and fulfillment do not need to be granted by someone else—they can be created intentionally.
Taking care of myself is how I build my own happiness and how I honor both the lessons I learned and the people who showed up when they could. My past is neither a source of shame nor a justification. It is context.
I am not defined by hardship, but I am shaped by it.
I am proud of the person it helped me become—and I hope you are too.
