🔥 THE WOMAN I AM NOW 🔥

(A Declaration, A Reckoning, A Rebirth)

I am done being the one who always reaches out first.
I am done knocking on doors that stay closed unless I show up performing like a trained fucking seal.
I am done pretending I haven’t noticed how one-sided this whole “family” thing has been.

From today forward, I am building a life that reflects what I give:
real love, real presence, real honesty.
If you want to be in my world, you don’t have to perform.
You don’t have to be perfect.
You don’t have to play nice or pretend you’re someone you’re not.

But you DO have to show up.
You DO have to take a step toward me.
You DO have to meet me halfway.
Otherwise?
No entry.
No access.
No more draining the woman who has already bled enough for everyone.

I am no longer lifting dead relationships that refuse to stand on their own legs.
I am no longer begging grown adults to acknowledge my existence.
I am no longer bending myself into shapes that dishonor the person I fought like hell to become.

If I am the only one calling, the only one inviting, the only one trying—then it is NOT a relationship.
It’s a performance.
And I’m done performing.

This includes “family.”
Especially family.

Because let’s call the truth by its real name:
I’m out here in the life I have now, with my husband—
not because I chose distance,
but because a whole group of people chose apathy.
Chose silence.
Chose convenience.
Chose to love the version of me that served them,
but not the woman I actually am.

What mattered to them was who I was for them—
not who I was inside.
My softness didn’t matter.
My fire didn’t matter.
My truth didn’t matter.

Only my compliance ever did.

And now that I’ve stopped performing?
Their absence tells the whole damn story.

Does it hurt?
Absofuckinglutely.
It’s a soul-level sting to realize the “family” you cherished was built on conditions you never signed up for.
I lost something I thought was mine.

But the truth is brutal and clean:
It was never mine.
Not really.
Not in the way I deserved.

And so I walk forward now—
not carrying the dead weight of people who don’t care if I show up,
but opening my arms to the ones who do.
The ones who invite me in without expectation or conditions.
The ones who love me as I love:
freely, fiercely, and with a heart that doesn’t quit.

This is my new life.
This is my standard.
This is my fire.

You want to be part of it?
Then fucking show up.

Otherwise…
I’m moving on without you.