Center Yourself
Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of conversations online about decentering men.
Some people embrace it. Others push back against it. And honestly, I understand both sides.
For a while, I thought that was the answer too. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized I was asking the wrong question.
Maybe the goal isn’t to decenter men.
Maybe it isn’t to decenter women either.
Maybe the real work is learning to center yourself.
Not because you’re more important than everyone else, but because no one else can walk this part of your journey for you.
I think many of us grow up defining ourselves in relation to everyone else. We’re someone’s daughter, partner, parent, employee, friend, or caregiver. We become so focused on everyone else’s needs, opinions, and expectations that, little by little, we lose sight of ourselves. Our worth starts to depend on whether we’re chosen, understood, needed, or validated by someone else.
I’ve done that.
I’ve spent seasons of my life letting other people’s opinions shape how I saw myself. If someone was disappointed in me, I questioned my worth. If someone pulled away, I wondered what was wrong with me. If someone approved of me, I felt secure—for a little while.
It was exhausting.
Somewhere along my spiritual path, I realized I wasn’t just wrestling with a psychological pattern. I was wrestling with a spiritual one.
If I believe there’s a divine spark within each of us—if I believe we’re all expressions of the same Source—then why was I asking other people to tell me who I was? Why was I searching for outside validation when the answers I was looking for could only be found within?
That question changed something in me.
Because once you begin centering yourself instead of everyone else’s opinions, you stop living as a reflection of other people’s choices. Their approval still feels good. Their rejection still hurts. But neither gets to define who you are.
I think so much of the spiritual journey is remembering. Remembering who we were before fear, before shame, before expectations, before the world handed us labels and convinced us they were our identity.
Maybe awakening isn’t about becoming someone new.
Maybe it’s about remembering who we’ve always been.
I’ve always believed that loving yourself doesn’t mean loving other people less.
I just wasn’t living like I believed it.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot to include myself in that love. I spent so much energy caring for other people that I stopped offering myself the same compassion, the same grace, and the same patience I was so willing to give away.
I’ve been learning that centering yourself doesn’t diminish your love for other people. It changes the way you love them. You stop loving from a place of fear, obligation, or the hope of being enough. You begin loving from a place of wholeness.
When you aren’t asking someone else to complete you, rescue you, or constantly reassure you, your relationships begin to change. They become less about filling an emptiness and more about sharing a life. You stop asking people to carry the weight of your identity. You simply invite them to walk beside you.
That applies to romantic relationships, friendships, family, and even spiritual communities.
The healthiest relationships aren’t built around one person orbiting another. They’re built around two people who each know who they are, choosing to share the journey together.
For me, centering myself has meant paying attention to my own values before anyone else’s expectations. Choosing peace over people-pleasing. Trusting my intuition. Spending more time in nature, where nothing questions its place in the world.
An oak doesn’t compare itself to a pine.
A river doesn’t wonder if it’s flowing the right way.
A wildflower doesn’t wait for permission to bloom.
Everything in nature simply becomes more fully what it already is.
Maybe we’re meant to do the same.
Ironically, the more I’ve centered myself, the less I’ve needed to prove myself. The less I’ve chased validation. The less power other people’s opinions have had over my life.
And I don’t think this is just about men or women.
I think it’s about all of us.
We live in a world that constantly encourages us to define ourselves through something outside of ourselves—a relationship, a career, a title, social media, success, or someone else’s approval.
But none of those things can tell us who we are.
Only we can discover that.
Centering yourself isn’t about becoming self-absorbed.
It’s about becoming rooted.
Like a tree, your roots grow deep into your own values, your inner life, and your connection to the divine. The deeper those roots grow, the less every passing storm can shake you.
don’t think we need to spend our lives trying to decenter other people. I think we simply need to stop living as though everyone else is standing where we should be.
Because no one else can live this part of your journey for you.
And perhaps the spiritual path isn’t about becoming someone different after all.
Perhaps it’s about returning to the quiet center that has been within you all along.
I actually think this is one of your more universal pieces. It still carries your spiritual perspective, but it’s accessible whether someone is religious, spiritual, or neither. That’s a strength—it invites readers in first, then gently introduces the deeper ideas of remembering, the divine spark, and coming home to yourself.
