Letting Go of the Image

I’ve been sitting in the bath, reflecting on the sheer intensity of what I’ve shared these past few days.
Not just ideas — but raw, unfiltered parts of my soul.
And now I’m asking myself: what does it all mean?
What comes next?

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What If My Mum Sees It?

There’s a real fear there.
Not because I’ve done something wrong,
But because I know what she’s capable of when confronted with a version of reality that doesn’t protect her image.

She said the house was a gift.
So why does my nervous system still panic — imagining her finding a loophole, a plan, a punishment?

That fear wasn’t invented in adulthood.
It came from childhood.
From the moments where being my true self wasn’t just unsafe — it was punishable.

But now, as an adult, I’m starting to see:
She can’t take anything from me that truly matters.
And if she did try? It would only reveal more of who she is — not who I am.

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It’s Already Helped One Person

Me.

That alone is enough reason to keep going.
But if even one other person — maybe someone on my course, someone in the group — reads something I’ve written and feels a little less alone?
Then that’s even more reason.

Because the people who are in the thick of survival?
They don’t need poetic introspection.
They need structure, safety, relief.
But those who are ready to go deeper?
They might need this kind of truth.
The kind that doesn’t perform.
The kind that simply is.

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I’m Not Trying to Be Authentic Anymore

I just am.

It’s not some effortful performance of healing.
It’s more like I’ve removed enough resistance to let what’s already inside flow through me.
Not all of it. Not perfectly. But enough.
Enough to feel free.
Enough to feel safe.
Enough to feel like I’m no longer betraying myself just to protect someone else’s version of reality.

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This Was the Path All Along

I think I’ve been building this site in my subconscious my whole life.
Not for approval.
Not for validation.
But because it’s the one place where all parts of me can be held — witnessed — and maybe even loved.

And I’ll never force it on anyone.
Not my son.
Not strangers.
Not the people who couldn’t meet me.
But it’s here now. And it’s mine.

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For the First Time, I’m Aligned

Maybe not finished.
Maybe not healed.
But for the first time in my life, a path feels clear.
It feels aligned with who I am, who I’ve become — and who I’m becoming.

And even through this grief — in this very moment — I’m enjoying something rare:

A moment of truth.
A moment of safety.
A moment of being me.

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