You go first…

This morning, we had a fight.

Well… technically, it started last night, but we decided to pause for sleep.

You know, even emotional warfare requires rest. Gotta stay hydrated, too.

So we picked it back up first thing in the morning, like two highly trained soldiers of the ego, ready for round two over coffee and unwashed dishes.

And in the heat of it, he drops this gem: “I’ll start showing you respect and apologies when you start showing me respect and apologies.”

Ah. The classic standoff.

The spiritual Mexican standoff.

“You go first.”

“No, you go first.

”And there we are—two adults, supposedly evolved, waiting for the other to blink so we can feel justified in being decent.

But here’s the thing: Life doesn’t work that way.

The universe doesn’t hand out rewards to the one who holds the grudge the longest.

You can’t wait for the world to soften before you let your heart melt.

You can’t wait for the apology before you offer your truth.

You can’t wait for the mirror to smile before you do.

Because it’s never been about the mirror.

It’s about you.

You are the beginning of everything.

The tone. The energy. The frequency. The ripple.

And don’t come at me with, “But why should I go first?”

Because, darling, if you’re the one who sees it… you’re the one who’s meant to shift it.

Spiritual insight is not a badge — it’s a responsibility.

If God lives in you — and yes, even in your tired, annoyed, coffee-stained, eye-rolling version of you —then you’re not waiting for life to respond.

Life is responding to you.

So if what’s coming back to you feels harsh, empty, disrespectful, cold —ask yourself what parts of you have forgotten how to radiate.

What parts of you are withholding softness, assuming it needs to be earned.

What parts of you are guarding the very things you’re craving.

Because here’s the plot twist: Nothing shows up until you do.

Nothing flows until you open the tap.

Nothing changes until you stop outsourcing the starting line.

We keep expecting life to behave like a polite guest.

To knock gently, bring flowers, and offer us what we want —and then we’ll be grateful.

And then we’ll give.

And then we’ll show who we really are.

But life’s not a polite guest.

She’s a mirror. A brutal, gorgeous, sacred mirror.

And she will not hand you what you refuse to become.

So today, I remembered something I keep forgetting: You don’t get the life you demand. You get the life you demonstrate.

You don’t get respect by withholding it.

You don’t get peace by being right.

You don’t get love by being emotionally constipated waiting for someone else to “go first.”

You get it by embodying it, even when — especially when — it’s hard.

That’s the real revolution.

That’s the real power.

Now excuse me while I go apologize first.

Not because I lost.

But because I remembered who the hell I am.