I just let go of the last connection that wasn’t truly serving me. Not with hate. Not with anger. Just a quiet, final no more.

It wasn’t the most dramatic. It wasn’t even the most painful. But it was the last. And that made it symbolic. It marked the end of a cycle — the old me, the one who tolerated, who waited to be seen, who stayed loyal to people who didn’t actually see me at all.

I’ve let go of them all now. My mother, and every other person whose presence kept me tied to a version of myself I’ve outgrown. Some of them once meant a lot to me. Some of them probably still care, in their own way. But none of them have grown with me. None of them could meet me where I am now. And that’s okay.

What surprises me most is the feeling that came after. Not grief. Not guilt.
Excitement.

For the first time, my life feels like it’s mine. My energy isn’t tied up in managing, fixing, or proving. I’ve cut the ties to people who were surprised by my clarity — and that, in itself, showed how little they really saw.

They might have meant well.
They might have loved me in the ways they knew how.
But I love me better now. And I get to choose what love looks like moving forward.

I know no one will clap for this moment. There’s no parade for choosing peace. No standing ovation for inner alignment. But I’m clapping. Quietly, deeply, with reverence. Because I know what this took.

This is the kind of freedom no one gives you.
You have to take it.

And I just did.