There was Never a Trophy There

When I Finally Realized I Had Already Won

I laughed at myself today.

Actually laughed.

Because after years of healing, analyzing, understanding, releasing, circling back, releasing some more, and occasionally finding my brain standing in places I was quite certain we had already vacated…

I finally caught something.

I think part of me was still trying to win.

And suddenly so much made sense.

I am competitive.

Not in a cute little I enjoy a friendly game kind of way.

No.

😂

I like to win.

I like overcoming things.

I like figuring shit out.

I like being the person who gets knocked down and somehow comes crawling back over the hill looking mildly disheveled but victorious.

Resilience became part of my identity.

Jasmine gets back up.

Jasmine figures it out.

Jasmine makes something out of nothing.

Jasmine survives.

Jasmine gets on top.

And somewhere along the way, I think my brain turned one of the most painful relationships of my life into another thing I needed to win.

Except I hadn’t realized we were still keeping score.

I Didn’t Want Him. I Wanted to Be Chosen.

I recently heard someone say something that stopped me cold:

Sometimes you don’t actually want the person.

You want to be chosen by the person.

Oof.

Because when I stripped away the longing, the history, the chemistry, the meaning I’d attached to everything and looked only at the actual experience of the relationship…

There was an uncomfortable truth waiting for me.

I didn’t like that life.

I didn’t like being lied to.

I didn’t like betrayal.

I didn’t like wondering.

I didn’t like walking on eggshells.

I didn’t like giving and giving and giving while receiving so little.

I didn’t like carrying more than my share.

I didn’t like feeling alone while technically being in a relationship.

I didn’t like chaos.

I didn’t like who I became trying to survive it.

So what exactly had I been trying to get back?

That’s when I realized:

Maybe somewhere underneath all that longing was a much younger wound saying:

Choose me.

Because if the person who rejected me eventually chose me…

then maybe I wasn’t rejected after all.

If the person who didn’t recognize my value finally recognized it…

then maybe I could prove I had always been valuable.

If the story eventually ended with:

“I was wrong. It was always you.”

then maybe Jasmine won.

And Jasmine likes to fucking win.

😂

Wait.

That realization stopped me.

Because if being chosen meant winning…

what exactly was the prize?

The relationship?

The life?

The chaos?

The anxiety?

The overworking?

The betrayal?

The loneliness?

Girl.

😂

I actually laughed and told myself:

“Jas, find a new hobby. We don’t have to win at life by winning THAT.”

And then another sentence came to me.

One I remembered from Princess Jasmine:

I am not a prize to be won.

Except suddenly I saw the other side of it.

Neither is he.

People aren’t prizes.

Relationships aren’t trophies.

Being chosen isn’t winning.

The real question is:

What kind of life does this relationship create?

Because somebody could stand in front of me tomorrow and finally say every word an old version of me once desperately wanted to hear.

I choose you.

I was wrong.

I finally understand.

You’re the one.

And maybe some tiny competitive part of me would still throw her arms in the air for half a second:

WE FUCKING WON!

🏆💃😂

Until Adult Jasmine walked into the prize room.

Looked around.

And said:

Wait a minute.

I don’t want this.

Potential Isn’t the Prize Either

This one was harder.

Because I could see so much potential.

And potential is dangerous when you love deeply.

You can look at someone and see everything they could become.

Who they could be if they healed.

Who they could be if they stopped running.

Who they could be if they learned to regulate themselves.

Who they could be if they finally dealt with their wounds.

Who they could be if they chose growth.

And then you can accidentally fall in love with a future version of someone while living with the current one.

But potential isn’t partnership.

I don’t get to have a relationship with someone’s hypothetical healed self.

I have a relationship with the person standing in front of me.

Their actions.

Their choices.

Their patterns.

Their capacity.

Their consistency.

Their behavior today.

And that realization doesn’t require me to hate anybody.

I don’t have to make someone a villain to acknowledge that the life we created together wasn’t good for me.

I don’t have to decide they are incapable of changing.

Maybe they will.

Maybe they won’t.

I don’t know.

And beautifully…

I don’t need to know anymore.

Because their potential isn’t my assignment.

I Had the Scoreboard Backward

I think my old scoreboard looked something like this:

He rejects me = I lose.

He chooses me = I win.

But that entire scoring system was built on the assumption that his choice determined my value.

It doesn’t.

And there was another assumption hidden underneath it:

That being chosen by him was something worth winning.

Except Adult Jasmine has information Little Jasmine didn’t have.

She knows what that life actually feels like.

And she doesn’t choose it.

That’s the part that changes everything.

For years the question was:

Will he choose me?

And I completely overlooked the question:

Do I choose this?

Not:

Do I choose the chemistry?

Do I choose the memories?

Do I choose the potential?

Do I choose the fantasy ending?

Do I choose the satisfaction of finally being wanted?

Do I choose proving everybody wrong?

No.

Do I choose the actual Tuesday-afternoon experience of living this life?

And my answer is clear.

No.

I don’t.

Holy shit.

I had been waiting to be chosen without realizing I was allowed to choose too.

Maybe Resilience Doesn’t Always Mean Winning

This realization showed me another piece of my programming.

I’ve always been proud of being resilient.

And I still am.

I have survived things that changed me.

I rebuilt.

Again.

And again.

And again.

But somewhere inside that beautiful resilience was another belief:

I have to come out on top.

I have to turn the story around.

I have to prove nothing defeated me.

I need the satisfying ending.

I need the final word.

I need to win.

Otherwise maybe what happened to me won.

But I’m starting to understand resilience differently.

Sometimes resilience is fighting.

Sometimes resilience is rebuilding.

Sometimes resilience is refusing to stay down.

And sometimes resilience looks at the game, looks at the prize, looks at what continuing to play is costing…

and says:

I’m done.

Not because I lost.

Because I finally realized this isn’t a game worth winning.

The Game Cannot Give Me What I’m Looking For

That’s the trap I couldn’t see before.

If I needed another person’s regret, return, apology, transformation, or choosing to prove that I had won…

then my victory still belonged to them.

They still controlled the scoreboard.

They had to do something before I could feel finished.

They had to recognize something.

They had to understand.

They had to come back.

They had to validate the story.

Which meant I hadn’t actually taken my power back at all.

I was still waiting for someone else to hand me the trophy.

And today I realized:

There is no trophy over there.

There never was.

The only way to keep trying to win the old game is to keep playing it.

And I don’t play anymore.

Look Around, Baby

This is where Competitive Jasmine needs the same compassion I’ve been learning to give every other part of myself.

I’m not mad at her.

She helped me survive too.

She was the one saying:

Get up.

Again.

We’re not staying here.

Figure it out.

Keep going.

I love that bitch.

😂

She has gotten us through some SHIT.

But I can see her standing at that old scoreboard waiting for the numbers to change.

And I think I finally know what to tell her.

Baby.

Look around.

Look where we live.

Look at the peace.

Look at the children laughing.

Look at everything we’ve created.

Look at the things our hands make.

Look at the garden.

Look at the stories.

Look at the woman we became.

Look at how safe it feels inside us now.

Look at how differently we love.

Look at how differently we choose.

Look at how quickly we come home to ourselves when our mind wanders away.

What the hell do you mean we haven’t won?

😂

This Is the Prize

I spent so much time imagining victory as something that would happen behind me.

Some correction to the past.

Some final scene.

Some person finally seeing what they couldn’t see before.

Some grand reversal where rejection became choosing and I could finally say:

See?

But my victory wasn’t behind me.

It was being built in front of me the entire time.

Piece by piece.

Boundary by boundary.

Paycheck by paycheck.

Lesson by lesson.

Choice by choice.

Laugh by laugh.

Healing by healing.

I built a life I don’t constantly need to escape from.

And maybe that’s why the old competition feels so absurd now.

What would I even be competing for?

I already have something more valuable.

Peace.

I have myself.

And this version of me?

She’s the fucking prize.

Not because she’s perfect.

She’s still occasionally dramatic.

Still competitive.

Still capable of turning one stray thought into a limited series with six seasons and a reunion special.

😂

But she knows how to come home now.

She catches herself.

She tells herself the truth.

She apologizes when she’s wrong.

She protects her peace.

She creates.

She plays.

She loves.

She questions her own programming.

She doesn’t abandon herself because someone else does.

And increasingly, she doesn’t require someone else’s choices to tell her what she’s worth.

I like her.

Actually…

I fucking love her.

I Walked Myself Home

Maybe that was the victory all along.

Not getting someone else to come back.

Coming back to myself.

Not finally being chosen.

Finally becoming someone who chooses herself.

Not proving that I was worth loving.

Realizing my worth was never on trial.

Not winning the old relationship.

Building a life I actually want to live.

So Competitive Jasmine can put down the scoreboard.

There is nothing left to prove.

Nobody needs to regret losing me.

Nobody needs to recognize my value.

Nobody needs to come back transformed.

Nobody needs to declare me the winner.

They are allowed to live whatever life they choose.

And I am allowed to choose mine.

There was never a trophy there worth bringing home.

Because the relationship wasn’t the prize.

Being chosen wasn’t the prize.

Winning wasn’t the prize.

The life I created is the prize.

The woman I became is the prize.

I walked myself through every ugly mile it took to get here.

I walked myself out of chaos.

I walked myself through grief.

I walked myself through rejection.

I walked myself through obsession and uncertainty and healing and all the fucking questions.

And eventually…

I walked myself home.

So no.

I don’t need to win.

I already did.

I’m here. ❤️

Closing Reflection

Maybe there is something in your life you’re still trying to win.

A person you want to finally choose you.

An apology you’re waiting to receive.

Someone you need to recognize your worth.

A situation you desperately want to turn around so you can prove that you didn’t lose.

Ask yourself:

What would winning actually give me?

And then ask the harder question:

Do I even want the prize—or do I just hate the feeling of losing?

Look at the life you’ve created while you were waiting for the scoreboard to change.

Look at who you’ve become.

Look at what you survived, what you’ve learned, what you’ve built, and what you no longer tolerate.

Maybe victory isn’t waiting somewhere behind you.

Maybe you’ve been walking toward it this whole time.

Maybe you already won.