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I was never taught how to pace myself.

When my eyelids were droopy, I would stay awake. I wouldn’t look at my day’s schedule and incorporate rest.

I was born with the notion that the harder you pushed, the more you would be “worthy”. The more tasks that I could complete, the happier my mom would be of who I was. Because I wasn’t good enough just existing, my life was directly equivalent to how many tangible achievements I could show to the world.

Well, actually just show to my family to prove I was still worthy of love.

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