Sometimes the biggest shifts in life don’t come with fireworks — they come with quiet realisation. And today, something’s starting to land in my body:

I did it.

I’ve removed every draining presence from my life.
The people who chipped away at my self-worth, the ones who expected everything and gave very little — they’re gone.
And now, all of that energy I used to spend managing dysfunction…
I get to give it to myself. And to my son.

That’s the most self-loving thing I’ve ever done.
And I’m still letting it sink in.

I’ve also reached for support when I needed it — through therapy, through reflection, through honest expression. I didn’t try to do it all alone. And that, too, is something I’m embracing.

I’m following a path that actually fits me — studying counselling, working with Barnardo’s, connecting with people in a way that feels aligned with who I am and who I’m becoming. I’m certain this is the direction I’m meant to go. Even if the road isn’t linear. Even if I don’t get into Level 4 this time. I’ll regroup. I’ll adapt. And I’ll try again.

Because the end goal isn’t in question — only the route.

I’ve even created a source of income that I once doubted — through poker. A field that requires discipline, intuition, strategy, emotional regulation — and I’m growing in all of it. I’ve made solid progress. And even though part of me resists celebrating it, I know I’ve earned every step. I’ve taken time off to process emotionally, and still, I’m moving forward. I trust that will only continue to build.

Most importantly: I’m secure.
Financially — I’m supported enough to focus on becoming who I want to be without panic.
Emotionally — I feel stability in a way I never have before.
Socially — I might not have the most vibrant social life right now, but I’m not as far off as I sometimes think. A meaningful conversation a day — that’s often all I really need.
And as for love — I do want a partner one day. But I’m no longer waiting to build my life around someone else.

I’m building the kind of life that welcomes love in — not one that clings to it.
A life where someone would want to stay because it feels like home.
And if they didn’t want to?
That would be okay too.

Because I’m still going to have a beautiful life.

What I’m learning is that freedom doesn’t always feel loud.
Sometimes it’s quiet. Grounded. Soft.
Like sitting still and realising — finally — I’m here.
I’m okay.
And I’m in charge of what happens next.