There’s something special about today.

The sun is warm, the air feels light, and the group I’m meeting with is smaller now—maybe 14 or 15 of us instead of the original 20. But I like it this way. It feels more intimate. More committed. The people who’ve stayed seem to be the ones most willing to look at themselves honestly, without fear. And while I wish no one harm, I can’t say I’m sad that some of the more difficult dynamics won’t be in the room.

Honestly, I feel peaceful. There’s no fear in me today. Just a quiet kind of anticipation. The women in this group… they’re kind, soft, emotionally present in ways that I rarely get to experience. And I care about them. Deeply. More than I expected to. If they don’t move forward onto Level 4, it will feel like a real loss. These might be some of the deepest connections I’ve ever had in my life. But I’ve made peace with the fact that this season is about grieving and embracing. Letting go of what was, and opening to what’s to come.

This morning I wore my floral shirt for the first time out in public. I still feel a little insecure in it, but it’s the most comfortable thing I own, and it feels like me. I imagine someone—maybe one of the women—will compliment it, and I’ll breathe a little easier. I might even wear it every day for the rest of my life.

There’s a part of me—soft, kind, expressive—that I’ve had to hide for a long time. I had to keep him tucked away to survive in the environments I grew up in. But now… I’m letting him walk beside me. Sometimes even in front of me. And I just guide him gently, kindly, like someone who’s finally learned to be on his own side.

That’s what this whole journey feels like now.

It’s not about becoming someone new—it’s about letting him be seen.
Letting him feel safe enough to lead.
Letting him speak with my voice.
Letting him live in this world with soft eyes and an open heart.

He’s not alone anymore.

He has me.