For most of my adult life I started every morning by immediately thinking about what everyone else needed from me that day — the morning I started asking what I needed first, I understood why I had been exhausted for twenty years

Picture this: 5:30 AM, alarm blaring, and before my eyes were even fully open, my mind was already racing through a mental checklist. Client deadline at noon. Team meeting at 2. Partner needs me to pick up groceries. Friend's having a crisis. Mom wants to know when I'm visiting.

For years, this was my morning ritual. Not coffee first, not stretching, not even a moment of peaceful silence. Just an immediate download of everyone else's expectations flooding my barely conscious brain.

I thought this was what responsible adults did. I thought this was being productive, reliable, the guy everyone could count on. What I didn't realize was that I was slowly drowning in a sea of other people's needs while completely ignoring my own.

Then one morning, everything changed. I woke up so exhausted that I literally couldn't summon the energy to run through my usual mental gymnastics. Instead, a different question bubbled up: "What do I need today?"

The silence that followed was deafening. I had no idea.

1. The cost of putting yourself last

Think about it. When you board a plane, what do they tell you about oxygen masks? Put yours on first before helping others. There's a reason for that — you can't help anyone if you're passed out from lack of oxygen.

Yet most of us live our entire lives doing the opposite. We're so busy making sure everyone else can breathe that we forget we need air too.

I spent nearly two decades operating this way. By my mid-thirties, I was successful by most standards. Good career, solid relationships, checking all the boxes society said mattered. But I was also anxious, depleted, and constantly fighting this nagging feeling that something was fundamentally wrong.

The exhaustion wasn't just physical. It was soul-deep. The kind where you wake up tired no matter how much you sleep, where even your victories feel hollow because you're too drained to celebrate them.

2. Why we default to everyone else first

There's something almost addictive about being needed. It feeds our ego, makes us feel important, valuable, indispensable. Every time someone relies on us, we get a little hit of validation.

But here's what I've learned from years of studying Eastern philosophy and writing about it in my book [Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego](https://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Secrets-Buddhism-Maximum-Minimum-ebook/dp/B0BD15Q9WF) — this constant need to be needed is often just our ego in disguise.

We tell ourselves we're being selfless, but sometimes we're actually avoiding the harder work of figuring out what we genuinely want and need. It's easier to lose yourself in other people's problems than to face your own emptiness.

Growing up with technology probably made this worse for our generation. We're constantly connected, always available, forever responding to the next notification. The boundaries between "me time" and "everyone else time" have completely dissolved.

3. The morning everything shifted

That morning when I first asked myself what I needed, the answer came slowly. First, silence. Then, coffee without checking my phone. A walk without mentally preparing for meetings. Time to write without worrying about deadlines.

Simple things. Basic human needs I'd been ignoring for years.

I started small. Instead of immediately reaching for my phone, I'd lie in bed for five extra minutes just breathing. Instead of planning everyone else's day, I'd ask myself one question: "What would make today good for me?"

The guilt was immediate and intense. Who was I to prioritize a morning walk when there were emails waiting? How could I justify journaling when my partner needed help with breakfast?

But here's what surprised me: when I started taking care of my own needs first, I actually became better at helping others. I was more patient, more present, more genuinely helpful rather than resentfully obligated.

4. The practice of self-priority

"Self-care" has become such a buzzword that it's almost lost meaning. We think it means spa days and expensive retreats. But real self-care is much simpler and much harder.

It's saying no to the extra project when you're already overwhelmed. It's turning off notifications during dinner. It's asking for what you need in relationships instead of hoping people will guess.

For me, it started with mornings. I began waking up 30 minutes earlier — not to be more productive for others, but to have time that was completely mine. Sometimes I'd write. Sometimes I'd just sit with coffee and watch the sunrise. No agenda, no goals, just space.

The ripple effects were profound. That morning clarity began affecting every other part of my day. I started recognizing when I was saying yes out of guilt versus genuine desire. I began noticing when I was exhausted versus when I had energy to give.

5. What changes when you put yourself first

The exhaustion I'd carried for twenty years didn't disappear overnight. But it started lifting, layer by layer.

First came the physical energy. When you're not constantly depleted, your body actually wants to move, to engage, to participate in life rather than just survive it.

Then came mental clarity. Without the constant noise of everyone else's needs, I could actually hear my own thoughts. I rediscovered interests I'd abandoned. Started projects I'd been putting off for years.

The relationships that survived this shift became stronger. The people who truly cared about me were relieved to see me taking care of myself. They'd noticed my exhaustion long before I admitted it.

6. Making it practical

If you're reading this and thinking "must be nice, but I have real responsibilities," I get it. I really do. Especially now as a new father, the pull to put everyone else first is stronger than ever.

But here's what I've learned from both psychology research and Buddhist philosophy (explored more deeply in [Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego](https://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Secrets-Buddhism-Maximum-Minimum-ebook/dp/B0BD15Q9WF)) — you cannot pour from an empty cup.

Start ridiculously small. Take five minutes in the morning before you check your phone. Ask yourself what you need today, even if you can't act on it immediately. Notice when you're operating from obligation versus choice.

Pay attention to your energy levels throughout the day. When do you feel most depleted? What activities or people drain you? What fills you up?

These aren't selfish questions. They're survival questions.

Final words

That morning when I finally asked myself what I needed, I understood something crucial: the exhaustion wasn't just from doing too much. It was from consistently betraying myself in small ways, every single day, for decades.

You don't have to wait twenty years to learn this lesson. You don't have to hit rock bottom exhaustion to start putting your own oxygen mask on first.

Tomorrow morning, before you mentally list what everyone needs from you, try asking what you need from yourself. The answer might surprise you. More importantly, acting on that answer might change everything.

Because here's the truth nobody tells you: taking care of yourself isn't selfish. It's the most generous thing you can do for the people you love. They don't need a martyred, exhausted version of you. They need you whole, energized, and genuinely present.

Start tomorrow. Start with just one question. Start with yourself.