Worth what? Worth paying attention to? Worth loving? Worth showing up for?

I don’t always have answers to those questions, not for myself and certainly not for you.

But I do know this: when I start doubting my worth, when that question “Am I worth it?” circles in my mind, I have to stop and show up for myself.

Because life can feel like slogging through a swamp — heavy, messy, and full of mosquitoes that won’t stop biting.

Recently, I had a conversation with my partner (also my former wife of 20 years) that felt exactly like that swamp walk. It left me raw and questioning my value.

Before I share that story, let me tell you something vulnerable. Something that, for me, is the deepest act of showing up for myself.

On Tuesday, I’ll walk into a courtroom, alone, to make a change I’ve dreamed of for fifty years.

I am legally changing my name.

For 68 years, I’ve been someone else: John Clark Griffin, Jr. That name is on every official document. But to the world, I was always “Junior” or “Johnny.” My father was the “real” John — Big John, Senior.

I lived in his shadow.

No longer.

Last month, when my father passed away, I became, in Michael Singer’s words, an “untethered soul.”

On Tuesday, I will reclaim my power and step fully into who I am: John Emerson Clark.

My new name carries a message: I am a unique individual, a priceless human being, and I am worthy of love.

That’s one way I’m showing up for myself. But life has a way of testing whether we really believe the words we speak.

I am in a relationship with someone who values my companionship — but sees me as subservient. I pay rent to live in her home.

It is, in many ways, a transactional relationship.

I have value so long as I show up in ways she approves of. There’s a painful power imbalance, and it forces me to face a choice:

Do I fake intimacy, enjoy the comfort of her expensive house, and lose myself?Or do I show up for myself — and face the uncertainty of building something new?

I don’t yet have the financial resources to “abandon ship.” But I can’t drift aimlessly either. So I’m building a life raft — intentionally, strategically. If I don’t, no one else will.

And by the way, I’m still working my butt off on our relationship. I show up for difficult conversations - I don’t leave the room.

Here are the cold facts:

Her estate is left entirely to her two grown sons. She has considered amending her will so her estate would pay off the mortgage, allowing me to stay — but only if I cover all other expenses. Even then, her sons would own the house, and the trust is revocable at any time.

And there’s a catch. She has asked me first to admit that my “immature, irresponsible decisions” left her in the position of having to rescue me.

That’s not love. That’s a bargain — and one that demands I give up something essential to who I am.

A loving relationship isn’t about who “needs protection more.” It’s about choosing to protect each other anyway.

So I’m left with a truth: if I accept her terms, I gain shelter but lose myself.

And I can’t do that. I won’t.

Here’s what I’m learning about showing up for yourself:

You may not control whether others see you as worthy. But you can decide whether you see yourself that way.

Showing up for yourself means refusing to fake intimacy, refusing to be small, and living a life aligned with your own courage.

Next Tuesday, when I stand before the judge, I will change my name. But more than that, I will declare freedom — freedom from ever tying my worth to something outside myself.

That’s my rite of passage. Yours will look different. But the truth is the same:

👉 Your worth is not conditional. It’s not negotiable. It’s already yours.

The only question is: will you show up for yourself?

How are you showing up for yourself? Tell me in the comments—and if someone you love needs a reminder, share it with them.

Do you know someone who needs to be reminded of who they are? Share COURAGEOUS HUMAN with them, and I will do precisely that.