A Year Of Symphony
June 25, 2025
There was a time when I needed John’s voice to steady me.
When his recommendation to join Stockport felt like permission — a kind of external validation that said, You’re allowed to be here. You’re good enough. I think I leaned on that. Not out of weakness, but out of survival. Out of years of being unsure if I was wanted anywhere at all.
But something’s shifting.
I don’t need a permission slip anymore. I don’t need to keep proving that I belong.
Because I do. Because I know I do.
I’ve come to see that this year ahead — this break from traditional structure, this space without the full weight of parenting or performance — it’s not a detour. It’s the actual work.
The deep, slow kind. The kind that lets my inner child finally feel safe. The kind that doesn’t rush to be impressive. The kind that chooses truth over tempo.
I used to think I had to be a therapist or a poker player. That choosing one meant disowning the other.
But what if my life gets to be a symphony? A weaving of sharpness and softness, solitude and connection. Poker for the part of me that thrives on challenge. Therapy for the part of me that longs to make meaning from pain. Writing and YouTube for the part of me that wants to leave something behind — something real.
None of it is wasted. None of it is fragmented. It’s all me.
The vasectomy, too, feels symbolic. Not just a medical decision, but a soft letting go of urgency.
I don’t need more children to prove I’m capable of love. I don’t need a relationship to fix what’s already healing. I don’t need to race toward a future just to avoid sitting with myself.
What I do need is this:
Time. Space. Stillness. A life I’m proud of — even in its quietest form.
Maybe Stockport wasn’t the place. Maybe the tutors weren’t equipped to meet someone like me. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Because I’ll keep showing up with integrity. I’ll keep asking honest questions. I’ll keep holding my boundaries — even when it makes me harder to deal with.
Not because I’m rebellious. Because I’m real.
This isn’t a pause. This is the year everything comes together.
A year of symphony.