#self-respect — Public Fediverse posts

The Promise I Kept to Myself

What is a promise you made to yourself that you have actually kept? Mine was simple, but it has followed me through every version of myself I have ever been. I promised that I would keep trying to become the best version of myself, no matter what happened to me, no matter how many times life humbled me, disappointed me, confused me, or forced me to begin again. I did not fully understand what that promise would demand when I made it. I thought becoming better would mean becoming more successful, more disciplined, more confident, and more certain of where I was going. I imagined growth as a straight line, something clean and visible, something I could measure by what I achieved. I thought one day I would wake up and finally feel complete. Instead, I learned that growth is often quiet, painful, and deeply uncomfortable. Sometimes it looks less like becoming someone new and more like finally facing the parts of yourself you spent years avoiding.

There were periods when I did not feel strong, focused, or proud of the person I was becoming. There were times when I lost direction, made choices I regretted, trusted people who did not deserve that trust, stayed in situations longer than I should have, and allowed fear to make decisions on my behalf. There were moments when I abandoned my own needs just to keep the peace, ignored the voice inside me that knew something was wrong, and accepted less than I knew I deserved because uncertainty felt more frightening than unhappiness. I have had to sit with the painful truth that some of the deepest wounds in my life did not only come from what others did to me. Some came from the ways I betrayed myself, silenced myself, and became smaller so that other people would remain comfortable. Admitting that was difficult, but honesty became part of the promise. I could not become better while continuing to lie to myself about what needed to change.

The promise was never that I would never fail. It was that failure would not be the final definition of me. I did not promise that I would always know what to do, always feel motivated, or always remain strong. I promised that when I lost myself, I would eventually come looking. I promised that when life knocked the confidence out of me, I would rebuild it slowly, even if I had to do so in silence. I promised that when I became tired of carrying everything, I would learn that resting was not the same as quitting. I promised that I would stop judging myself only by the days when I performed well and start recognising the courage it took to survive the days when simply getting through them was the achievement. Some seasons required discipline. Others required patience. Some required walking away. Others required staying still long enough to understand why I kept running toward the same pain in different forms.

Becoming the best version of myself has not always meant adding more. Sometimes it has meant letting go. Letting go of habits that kept me distracted from my own life. Letting go of people I kept trying to convince to value me. Letting go of the need to be understood by everyone. Letting go of the belief that healing should have a deadline. Letting go of old identities that once protected me but eventually became cages. There are versions of me that I had to grieve because, even though they were hurting, they were familiar. There are dreams I had to release because they belonged to a person I no longer was. There are apologies I never received, explanations that never came, and endings that never gave me closure. I had to learn that closure is sometimes the decision to stop waiting for the past to become fair. Sometimes moving forward begins when you accept that certain questions will remain unanswered, and you choose peace anyway.

The hardest part of keeping this promise has been understanding that the best version of me is not the version that never breaks. It is the version that does not remain broken forever. It is the person who learns how to become soft without becoming weak, strong without becoming cold, and honest without becoming cruel. It is the person who can look at old mistakes without allowing shame to erase every good thing that came after them. It is the person who understands that self-respect is not arrogance, boundaries are not punishment, and choosing yourself does not mean you stopped caring about others. It means you finally understood that you cannot build a meaningful life while constantly abandoning the person who has to live it.

I am still becoming. There are still parts of me I am working to understand, habits I am trying to break, fears I am learning not to obey, and dreams I have not yet found the courage to fully pursue. I still have days when I doubt myself, compare my progress to someone else’s, or feel frustrated by how far I have left to go. But I no longer believe those days erase the work I have already done. Progress is not always visible. Sometimes it is choosing not to return to what once destroyed your peace. Sometimes it is staying calm in a situation where the old you would have reacted. Sometimes it is recognising a pattern before it becomes another chapter. Sometimes it is looking in the mirror and speaking to yourself with compassion instead of contempt. These victories may never impress the world, but they matter because they change the relationship you have with yourself.

Maybe there is no final version of us. Maybe there is no day when the work is complete, every wound is healed, every weakness disappears, and life finally becomes easy. Perhaps the best version of ourselves is not waiting at the end of some distant road. Perhaps it is built through the way we walk that road. It is created in the choices we make when nobody is watching, in the moments when giving up would be understandable, and in the quiet decision to keep going anyway. It is the person who looks at everything that tried to harden them and still chooses kindness. The person who has every reason to become bitter but chooses wisdom instead. The person who can say, “Life changed me, but it did not finish me.”

That is the promise I have kept. Not the promise of perfection, constant motivation, or an unbroken life. It is the promise that I will not completely abandon myself. I may lose direction, but I will search for my way back. I may fall, but I will not build a home on the ground. I may become exhausted, but I will allow myself to rest without calling myself a failure. I may outgrow people, places, beliefs, and even dreams, but I will not force myself to remain in a life that no longer fits simply because I once prayed for it.

I promised myself that I would keep trying to become the best version of me, no matter what. Life has tested that promise in ways I never expected. It has shown me my weaknesses, exposed my fears, and forced me to meet parts of myself I would have preferred to avoid. But I am still here. Still learning. Still rebuilding. Still choosing not to give up on the person I know I can become. And perhaps that is what keeping a promise to yourself truly looks like. Not never falling apart, but refusing to believe that falling apart is where your story ends.

The Promise I Kept to Myself

What is a promise you made to yourself that you have actually kept? Mine was simple, but it has followed me through every version of myself I have ever been. I promised that I would keep trying to become the best version of myself, no matter what happened to me, no matter how many times life humbled me, disappointed me, confused me, or forced me to begin again. I did not fully understand what that promise would demand when I made it. I thought becoming better would mean becoming more successful, more disciplined, more confident, and more certain of where I was going. I imagined growth as a straight line, something clean and visible, something I could measure by what I achieved. I thought one day I would wake up and finally feel complete. Instead, I learned that growth is often quiet, painful, and deeply uncomfortable. Sometimes it looks less like becoming someone new and more like finally facing the parts of yourself you spent years avoiding.

There were periods when I did not feel strong, focused, or proud of the person I was becoming. There were times when I lost direction, made choices I regretted, trusted people who did not deserve that trust, stayed in situations longer than I should have, and allowed fear to make decisions on my behalf. There were moments when I abandoned my own needs just to keep the peace, ignored the voice inside me that knew something was wrong, and accepted less than I knew I deserved because uncertainty felt more frightening than unhappiness. I have had to sit with the painful truth that some of the deepest wounds in my life did not only come from what others did to me. Some came from the ways I betrayed myself, silenced myself, and became smaller so that other people would remain comfortable. Admitting that was difficult, but honesty became part of the promise. I could not become better while continuing to lie to myself about what needed to change.

The promise was never that I would never fail. It was that failure would not be the final definition of me. I did not promise that I would always know what to do, always feel motivated, or always remain strong. I promised that when I lost myself, I would eventually come looking. I promised that when life knocked the confidence out of me, I would rebuild it slowly, even if I had to do so in silence. I promised that when I became tired of carrying everything, I would learn that resting was not the same as quitting. I promised that I would stop judging myself only by the days when I performed well and start recognising the courage it took to survive the days when simply getting through them was the achievement. Some seasons required discipline. Others required patience. Some required walking away. Others required staying still long enough to understand why I kept running toward the same pain in different forms.

Becoming the best version of myself has not always meant adding more. Sometimes it has meant letting go. Letting go of habits that kept me distracted from my own life. Letting go of people I kept trying to convince to value me. Letting go of the need to be understood by everyone. Letting go of the belief that healing should have a deadline. Letting go of old identities that once protected me but eventually became cages. There are versions of me that I had to grieve because, even though they were hurting, they were familiar. There are dreams I had to release because they belonged to a person I no longer was. There are apologies I never received, explanations that never came, and endings that never gave me closure. I had to learn that closure is sometimes the decision to stop waiting for the past to become fair. Sometimes moving forward begins when you accept that certain questions will remain unanswered, and you choose peace anyway.

The hardest part of keeping this promise has been understanding that the best version of me is not the version that never breaks. It is the version that does not remain broken forever. It is the person who learns how to become soft without becoming weak, strong without becoming cold, and honest without becoming cruel. It is the person who can look at old mistakes without allowing shame to erase every good thing that came after them. It is the person who understands that self-respect is not arrogance, boundaries are not punishment, and choosing yourself does not mean you stopped caring about others. It means you finally understood that you cannot build a meaningful life while constantly abandoning the person who has to live it.

I am still becoming. There are still parts of me I am working to understand, habits I am trying to break, fears I am learning not to obey, and dreams I have not yet found the courage to fully pursue. I still have days when I doubt myself, compare my progress to someone else’s, or feel frustrated by how far I have left to go. But I no longer believe those days erase the work I have already done. Progress is not always visible. Sometimes it is choosing not to return to what once destroyed your peace. Sometimes it is staying calm in a situation where the old you would have reacted. Sometimes it is recognising a pattern before it becomes another chapter. Sometimes it is looking in the mirror and speaking to yourself with compassion instead of contempt. These victories may never impress the world, but they matter because they change the relationship you have with yourself.

Maybe there is no final version of us. Maybe there is no day when the work is complete, every wound is healed, every weakness disappears, and life finally becomes easy. Perhaps the best version of ourselves is not waiting at the end of some distant road. Perhaps it is built through the way we walk that road. It is created in the choices we make when nobody is watching, in the moments when giving up would be understandable, and in the quiet decision to keep going anyway. It is the person who looks at everything that tried to harden them and still chooses kindness. The person who has every reason to become bitter but chooses wisdom instead. The person who can say, “Life changed me, but it did not finish me.”

That is the promise I have kept. Not the promise of perfection, constant motivation, or an unbroken life. It is the promise that I will not completely abandon myself. I may lose direction, but I will search for my way back. I may fall, but I will not build a home on the ground. I may become exhausted, but I will allow myself to rest without calling myself a failure. I may outgrow people, places, beliefs, and even dreams, but I will not force myself to remain in a life that no longer fits simply because I once prayed for it.

I promised myself that I would keep trying to become the best version of me, no matter what. Life has tested that promise in ways I never expected. It has shown me my weaknesses, exposed my fears, and forced me to meet parts of myself I would have preferred to avoid. But I am still here. Still learning. Still rebuilding. Still choosing not to give up on the person I know I can become. And perhaps that is what keeping a promise to yourself truly looks like. Not never falling apart, but refusing to believe that falling apart is where your story ends.

The Promise I Kept to Myself

What is a promise you made to yourself that you have actually kept? Mine was simple, but it has followed me through every version of myself I have ever been. I promised that I would keep trying to become the best version of myself, no matter what happened to me, no matter how many times life humbled me, disappointed me, confused me, or forced me to begin again. I did not fully understand what that promise would demand when I made it. I thought becoming better would mean becoming more successful, more disciplined, more confident, and more certain of where I was going. I imagined growth as a straight line, something clean and visible, something I could measure by what I achieved. I thought one day I would wake up and finally feel complete. Instead, I learned that growth is often quiet, painful, and deeply uncomfortable. Sometimes it looks less like becoming someone new and more like finally facing the parts of yourself you spent years avoiding.

There were periods when I did not feel strong, focused, or proud of the person I was becoming. There were times when I lost direction, made choices I regretted, trusted people who did not deserve that trust, stayed in situations longer than I should have, and allowed fear to make decisions on my behalf. There were moments when I abandoned my own needs just to keep the peace, ignored the voice inside me that knew something was wrong, and accepted less than I knew I deserved because uncertainty felt more frightening than unhappiness. I have had to sit with the painful truth that some of the deepest wounds in my life did not only come from what others did to me. Some came from the ways I betrayed myself, silenced myself, and became smaller so that other people would remain comfortable. Admitting that was difficult, but honesty became part of the promise. I could not become better while continuing to lie to myself about what needed to change.

The promise was never that I would never fail. It was that failure would not be the final definition of me. I did not promise that I would always know what to do, always feel motivated, or always remain strong. I promised that when I lost myself, I would eventually come looking. I promised that when life knocked the confidence out of me, I would rebuild it slowly, even if I had to do so in silence. I promised that when I became tired of carrying everything, I would learn that resting was not the same as quitting. I promised that I would stop judging myself only by the days when I performed well and start recognising the courage it took to survive the days when simply getting through them was the achievement. Some seasons required discipline. Others required patience. Some required walking away. Others required staying still long enough to understand why I kept running toward the same pain in different forms.

Becoming the best version of myself has not always meant adding more. Sometimes it has meant letting go. Letting go of habits that kept me distracted from my own life. Letting go of people I kept trying to convince to value me. Letting go of the need to be understood by everyone. Letting go of the belief that healing should have a deadline. Letting go of old identities that once protected me but eventually became cages. There are versions of me that I had to grieve because, even though they were hurting, they were familiar. There are dreams I had to release because they belonged to a person I no longer was. There are apologies I never received, explanations that never came, and endings that never gave me closure. I had to learn that closure is sometimes the decision to stop waiting for the past to become fair. Sometimes moving forward begins when you accept that certain questions will remain unanswered, and you choose peace anyway.

The hardest part of keeping this promise has been understanding that the best version of me is not the version that never breaks. It is the version that does not remain broken forever. It is the person who learns how to become soft without becoming weak, strong without becoming cold, and honest without becoming cruel. It is the person who can look at old mistakes without allowing shame to erase every good thing that came after them. It is the person who understands that self-respect is not arrogance, boundaries are not punishment, and choosing yourself does not mean you stopped caring about others. It means you finally understood that you cannot build a meaningful life while constantly abandoning the person who has to live it.

I am still becoming. There are still parts of me I am working to understand, habits I am trying to break, fears I am learning not to obey, and dreams I have not yet found the courage to fully pursue. I still have days when I doubt myself, compare my progress to someone else’s, or feel frustrated by how far I have left to go. But I no longer believe those days erase the work I have already done. Progress is not always visible. Sometimes it is choosing not to return to what once destroyed your peace. Sometimes it is staying calm in a situation where the old you would have reacted. Sometimes it is recognising a pattern before it becomes another chapter. Sometimes it is looking in the mirror and speaking to yourself with compassion instead of contempt. These victories may never impress the world, but they matter because they change the relationship you have with yourself.

Maybe there is no final version of us. Maybe there is no day when the work is complete, every wound is healed, every weakness disappears, and life finally becomes easy. Perhaps the best version of ourselves is not waiting at the end of some distant road. Perhaps it is built through the way we walk that road. It is created in the choices we make when nobody is watching, in the moments when giving up would be understandable, and in the quiet decision to keep going anyway. It is the person who looks at everything that tried to harden them and still chooses kindness. The person who has every reason to become bitter but chooses wisdom instead. The person who can say, “Life changed me, but it did not finish me.”

That is the promise I have kept. Not the promise of perfection, constant motivation, or an unbroken life. It is the promise that I will not completely abandon myself. I may lose direction, but I will search for my way back. I may fall, but I will not build a home on the ground. I may become exhausted, but I will allow myself to rest without calling myself a failure. I may outgrow people, places, beliefs, and even dreams, but I will not force myself to remain in a life that no longer fits simply because I once prayed for it.

I promised myself that I would keep trying to become the best version of me, no matter what. Life has tested that promise in ways I never expected. It has shown me my weaknesses, exposed my fears, and forced me to meet parts of myself I would have preferred to avoid. But I am still here. Still learning. Still rebuilding. Still choosing not to give up on the person I know I can become. And perhaps that is what keeping a promise to yourself truly looks like. Not never falling apart, but refusing to believe that falling apart is where your story ends.

The Promise I Kept to Myself

What is a promise you made to yourself that you have actually kept? Mine was simple, but it has followed me through every version of myself I have ever been. I promised that I would keep trying to become the best version of myself, no matter what happened to me, no matter how many times life humbled me, disappointed me, confused me, or forced me to begin again. I did not fully understand what that promise would demand when I made it. I thought becoming better would mean becoming more successful, more disciplined, more confident, and more certain of where I was going. I imagined growth as a straight line, something clean and visible, something I could measure by what I achieved. I thought one day I would wake up and finally feel complete. Instead, I learned that growth is often quiet, painful, and deeply uncomfortable. Sometimes it looks less like becoming someone new and more like finally facing the parts of yourself you spent years avoiding.

There were periods when I did not feel strong, focused, or proud of the person I was becoming. There were times when I lost direction, made choices I regretted, trusted people who did not deserve that trust, stayed in situations longer than I should have, and allowed fear to make decisions on my behalf. There were moments when I abandoned my own needs just to keep the peace, ignored the voice inside me that knew something was wrong, and accepted less than I knew I deserved because uncertainty felt more frightening than unhappiness. I have had to sit with the painful truth that some of the deepest wounds in my life did not only come from what others did to me. Some came from the ways I betrayed myself, silenced myself, and became smaller so that other people would remain comfortable. Admitting that was difficult, but honesty became part of the promise. I could not become better while continuing to lie to myself about what needed to change.

The promise was never that I would never fail. It was that failure would not be the final definition of me. I did not promise that I would always know what to do, always feel motivated, or always remain strong. I promised that when I lost myself, I would eventually come looking. I promised that when life knocked the confidence out of me, I would rebuild it slowly, even if I had to do so in silence. I promised that when I became tired of carrying everything, I would learn that resting was not the same as quitting. I promised that I would stop judging myself only by the days when I performed well and start recognising the courage it took to survive the days when simply getting through them was the achievement. Some seasons required discipline. Others required patience. Some required walking away. Others required staying still long enough to understand why I kept running toward the same pain in different forms.

Becoming the best version of myself has not always meant adding more. Sometimes it has meant letting go. Letting go of habits that kept me distracted from my own life. Letting go of people I kept trying to convince to value me. Letting go of the need to be understood by everyone. Letting go of the belief that healing should have a deadline. Letting go of old identities that once protected me but eventually became cages. There are versions of me that I had to grieve because, even though they were hurting, they were familiar. There are dreams I had to release because they belonged to a person I no longer was. There are apologies I never received, explanations that never came, and endings that never gave me closure. I had to learn that closure is sometimes the decision to stop waiting for the past to become fair. Sometimes moving forward begins when you accept that certain questions will remain unanswered, and you choose peace anyway.

The hardest part of keeping this promise has been understanding that the best version of me is not the version that never breaks. It is the version that does not remain broken forever. It is the person who learns how to become soft without becoming weak, strong without becoming cold, and honest without becoming cruel. It is the person who can look at old mistakes without allowing shame to erase every good thing that came after them. It is the person who understands that self-respect is not arrogance, boundaries are not punishment, and choosing yourself does not mean you stopped caring about others. It means you finally understood that you cannot build a meaningful life while constantly abandoning the person who has to live it.

I am still becoming. There are still parts of me I am working to understand, habits I am trying to break, fears I am learning not to obey, and dreams I have not yet found the courage to fully pursue. I still have days when I doubt myself, compare my progress to someone else’s, or feel frustrated by how far I have left to go. But I no longer believe those days erase the work I have already done. Progress is not always visible. Sometimes it is choosing not to return to what once destroyed your peace. Sometimes it is staying calm in a situation where the old you would have reacted. Sometimes it is recognising a pattern before it becomes another chapter. Sometimes it is looking in the mirror and speaking to yourself with compassion instead of contempt. These victories may never impress the world, but they matter because they change the relationship you have with yourself.

Maybe there is no final version of us. Maybe there is no day when the work is complete, every wound is healed, every weakness disappears, and life finally becomes easy. Perhaps the best version of ourselves is not waiting at the end of some distant road. Perhaps it is built through the way we walk that road. It is created in the choices we make when nobody is watching, in the moments when giving up would be understandable, and in the quiet decision to keep going anyway. It is the person who looks at everything that tried to harden them and still chooses kindness. The person who has every reason to become bitter but chooses wisdom instead. The person who can say, “Life changed me, but it did not finish me.”

That is the promise I have kept. Not the promise of perfection, constant motivation, or an unbroken life. It is the promise that I will not completely abandon myself. I may lose direction, but I will search for my way back. I may fall, but I will not build a home on the ground. I may become exhausted, but I will allow myself to rest without calling myself a failure. I may outgrow people, places, beliefs, and even dreams, but I will not force myself to remain in a life that no longer fits simply because I once prayed for it.

I promised myself that I would keep trying to become the best version of me, no matter what. Life has tested that promise in ways I never expected. It has shown me my weaknesses, exposed my fears, and forced me to meet parts of myself I would have preferred to avoid. But I am still here. Still learning. Still rebuilding. Still choosing not to give up on the person I know I can become. And perhaps that is what keeping a promise to yourself truly looks like. Not never falling apart, but refusing to believe that falling apart is where your story ends.

The Promise I Kept to Myself

What is a promise you made to yourself that you have actually kept? Mine was simple, but it has followed me through every version of myself I have ever been. I promised that I would keep trying to become the best version of myself, no matter what happened to me, no matter how many times life humbled me, disappointed me, confused me, or forced me to begin again. I did not fully understand what that promise would demand when I made it. I thought becoming better would mean becoming more successful, more disciplined, more confident, and more certain of where I was going. I imagined growth as a straight line, something clean and visible, something I could measure by what I achieved. I thought one day I would wake up and finally feel complete. Instead, I learned that growth is often quiet, painful, and deeply uncomfortable. Sometimes it looks less like becoming someone new and more like finally facing the parts of yourself you spent years avoiding.

There were periods when I did not feel strong, focused, or proud of the person I was becoming. There were times when I lost direction, made choices I regretted, trusted people who did not deserve that trust, stayed in situations longer than I should have, and allowed fear to make decisions on my behalf. There were moments when I abandoned my own needs just to keep the peace, ignored the voice inside me that knew something was wrong, and accepted less than I knew I deserved because uncertainty felt more frightening than unhappiness. I have had to sit with the painful truth that some of the deepest wounds in my life did not only come from what others did to me. Some came from the ways I betrayed myself, silenced myself, and became smaller so that other people would remain comfortable. Admitting that was difficult, but honesty became part of the promise. I could not become better while continuing to lie to myself about what needed to change.

The promise was never that I would never fail. It was that failure would not be the final definition of me. I did not promise that I would always know what to do, always feel motivated, or always remain strong. I promised that when I lost myself, I would eventually come looking. I promised that when life knocked the confidence out of me, I would rebuild it slowly, even if I had to do so in silence. I promised that when I became tired of carrying everything, I would learn that resting was not the same as quitting. I promised that I would stop judging myself only by the days when I performed well and start recognising the courage it took to survive the days when simply getting through them was the achievement. Some seasons required discipline. Others required patience. Some required walking away. Others required staying still long enough to understand why I kept running toward the same pain in different forms.

Becoming the best version of myself has not always meant adding more. Sometimes it has meant letting go. Letting go of habits that kept me distracted from my own life. Letting go of people I kept trying to convince to value me. Letting go of the need to be understood by everyone. Letting go of the belief that healing should have a deadline. Letting go of old identities that once protected me but eventually became cages. There are versions of me that I had to grieve because, even though they were hurting, they were familiar. There are dreams I had to release because they belonged to a person I no longer was. There are apologies I never received, explanations that never came, and endings that never gave me closure. I had to learn that closure is sometimes the decision to stop waiting for the past to become fair. Sometimes moving forward begins when you accept that certain questions will remain unanswered, and you choose peace anyway.

The hardest part of keeping this promise has been understanding that the best version of me is not the version that never breaks. It is the version that does not remain broken forever. It is the person who learns how to become soft without becoming weak, strong without becoming cold, and honest without becoming cruel. It is the person who can look at old mistakes without allowing shame to erase every good thing that came after them. It is the person who understands that self-respect is not arrogance, boundaries are not punishment, and choosing yourself does not mean you stopped caring about others. It means you finally understood that you cannot build a meaningful life while constantly abandoning the person who has to live it.

I am still becoming. There are still parts of me I am working to understand, habits I am trying to break, fears I am learning not to obey, and dreams I have not yet found the courage to fully pursue. I still have days when I doubt myself, compare my progress to someone else’s, or feel frustrated by how far I have left to go. But I no longer believe those days erase the work I have already done. Progress is not always visible. Sometimes it is choosing not to return to what once destroyed your peace. Sometimes it is staying calm in a situation where the old you would have reacted. Sometimes it is recognising a pattern before it becomes another chapter. Sometimes it is looking in the mirror and speaking to yourself with compassion instead of contempt. These victories may never impress the world, but they matter because they change the relationship you have with yourself.

Maybe there is no final version of us. Maybe there is no day when the work is complete, every wound is healed, every weakness disappears, and life finally becomes easy. Perhaps the best version of ourselves is not waiting at the end of some distant road. Perhaps it is built through the way we walk that road. It is created in the choices we make when nobody is watching, in the moments when giving up would be understandable, and in the quiet decision to keep going anyway. It is the person who looks at everything that tried to harden them and still chooses kindness. The person who has every reason to become bitter but chooses wisdom instead. The person who can say, “Life changed me, but it did not finish me.”

That is the promise I have kept. Not the promise of perfection, constant motivation, or an unbroken life. It is the promise that I will not completely abandon myself. I may lose direction, but I will search for my way back. I may fall, but I will not build a home on the ground. I may become exhausted, but I will allow myself to rest without calling myself a failure. I may outgrow people, places, beliefs, and even dreams, but I will not force myself to remain in a life that no longer fits simply because I once prayed for it.

I promised myself that I would keep trying to become the best version of me, no matter what. Life has tested that promise in ways I never expected. It has shown me my weaknesses, exposed my fears, and forced me to meet parts of myself I would have preferred to avoid. But I am still here. Still learning. Still rebuilding. Still choosing not to give up on the person I know I can become. And perhaps that is what keeping a promise to yourself truly looks like. Not never falling apart, but refusing to believe that falling apart is where your story ends.

I can give 100% to ending #homelessness and not be concerned about the end result whatsoever. It in a way has nothing at all to do with me. Everything is weird that way. #Self-respect is more important than winning. As long as self-respect is a yield of winning, #winning was done the right way.

I can give 100% to ending #homelessness and not be concerned about the end result whatsoever. It in a way has nothing at all to do with me. Everything is weird that way. #Self-respect is more important than winning. As long as self-respect is a yield of winning, #winning was done the right way.

I can give 100% to ending #homelessness and not be concerned about the end result whatsoever. It in a way has nothing at all to do with me. Everything is weird that way. #Self-respect is more important than winning. As long as self-respect is a yield of winning, #winning was done the right way.

I can give 100% to ending #homelessness and not be concerned about the end result whatsoever. It in a way has nothing at all to do with me. Everything is weird that way. #Self-respect is more important than winning. As long as self-respect is a yield of winning, #winning was done the right way.

I can give 100% to ending #homelessness and not be concerned about the end result whatsoever. It in a way has nothing at all to do with me. Everything is weird that way. #Self-respect is more important than winning. As long as self-respect is a yield of winning, #winning was done the right way.

If Your Absence Doesn't Bother Them, Your Presence Never Mattered
https://wp.me/p84YjG-b46
#ActionsNotWords #ShowUp #Absence #RealLove #Relationship #OneSidedLove #SelfRespect #love #effort #MensMindset #ConsistencyMatters #YouDeserveBetter #KnowYourWorth #zsoltzsemba

Elegy of Queens I: The Silence I Outgrew

https://mondaymademedoit.com/2026/07/14/elegy-of-queens-i-the-silence-i-outgrew/

I don't do #Hopeless but I am here to lift it up. #MissKitty knows something entirely different and she understands the power of #Words, #Faith, and #Decision that doesn't look left or right. Do or Die. Either outcome is acceptable. #Self-respect is going to come from either outcome.

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:3kokmoj4eewm5uvtbk4ifynm/post/3mqascxyxi22h

The question of what this does to your self-respect would be a good and valid one if someone actually had any self-respect. #NATO #OTAN #selfrespect #trump

The question of what this does to your self-respect would be a good and valid one if someone actually had any self-respect. #NATO #OTAN #selfrespect #trump

The question of what this does to your self-respect would be a good and valid one if someone actually had any self-respect. #NATO #OTAN #selfrespect #trump

The question of what this does to your self-respect would be a good and valid one if someone actually had any self-respect. #NATO #OTAN #selfrespect #trump

The question of what this does to your self-respect would be a good and valid one if someone actually had any self-respect. #NATO #OTAN #selfrespect #trump

https://www.europesays.com/people/144492/ NATO Chief Confronted on His Lack of Self-Respect After Trump Meeting #DonaldTrump #GREENLAND #MarkRutte #SelfRespect #spain #TrumpWednesday

Start living by new rules the moment you stop asking for permission to change.

 
#NewRules #PersonalGrowth #ProtectYourPeace #SelfRespect #AuthenticLiving #LevelUpYourLife #ThinkandGrowEducation #RayBehan #Meditation #Writing

Start living by new rules the moment you stop asking for permission to change.

 
#NewRules #PersonalGrowth #ProtectYourPeace #SelfRespect #AuthenticLiving #LevelUpYourLife #ThinkandGrowEducation #RayBehan #Meditation #Writing

Start living by new rules the moment you stop asking for permission to change.

 
#NewRules #PersonalGrowth #ProtectYourPeace #SelfRespect #AuthenticLiving #LevelUpYourLife #ThinkandGrowEducation #RayBehan #Meditation #Writing

Start living by new rules the moment you stop asking for permission to change.

 
#NewRules #PersonalGrowth #ProtectYourPeace #SelfRespect #AuthenticLiving #LevelUpYourLife #ThinkandGrowEducation #RayBehan #Meditation #Writing

Start living by new rules the moment you stop asking for permission to change.

 
#NewRules #PersonalGrowth #ProtectYourPeace #SelfRespect #AuthenticLiving #LevelUpYourLife #ThinkandGrowEducation #RayBehan #Meditation #Writing

Words That Hit Harder Than Anything You Can Shout
https://wp.me/p84YjG-b2H
#EgoCheck #WordsThatHit #CalmIsDeadly #MindsetShift #RelationshipDynamics #KnowYourWorth #SilentPower #MensMindset #BoundaryUp #DoneWithIt #QuietConfidence #SelfRespect #zsoltzsemba

Unwritten Rules Every Man Should Already Know
https://wp.me/p84YjG-b2G
#MensMindset #SelfRespect #MasculineStandards #MenWhoLead #UnwrittenRules #MenAndMoney #RelationshipStandards #MaleGrowth #DisciplineOverMotivation #TheCode #MensDevelopment #LevelUp #zsoltzsemba

Still bringing it! The soul! What it is. Booyah! 💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻
Nobody chooses to lose.
End #Homelessness. Get #Self-respect.
#MusicSky

Everlast - What It's Like (Aco...

I don't have to worry about talking about it. Sometimes when something is this dear, it's good to keep it close, but I've been on this for over 4 years. Nothing except for the grave is shaking it loose until it's done. The end of #Homelessness is the beginning of #Self-respect for the nation.

#MissKittyPolitics
No one else is coming. #StrongerTogether. 🫂🫂🫂🗽🗽🗽
#Homelessness #Policy is the killer of 126 beautiful human beings everyday that deserved a home because they were here, and it was our obligation to provide them with a home.
Cuz the truth is AS THYSELF, we are losing #Self-respect.

Everlast - What It's Like (Off...

I haven't read the whole report yet but one of the most prominent activists is #Homeless themselves and has an online presence. You think I'm going to give up when I see that?! No way. It's Do or Die time people. Either is acceptable says #Guru. #Self-respect matters.
🔦🎤💃🏻

#MissKittyPolitics I just want to know why @[email protected] doesn't like my book. That's all. Why doesn't he like the book that I work so hard on and made it only $4.95? I don't know why he doesn't like my book. End #Homelessness and get #Self-respect.

The Illinois Sovereign Housing...

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:qobvnkudcv3zlaklxxjduqoi/post/3movqyrrbvp2u

It’s #MagicalMonday. Choosing comfort and skin-to-air contact is my favourite way to self-regulate.

Whether it’s a quiet soak at home or finding sanctuary in the wild, honouring your body’s need for space is the ultimate form of self-respect. Keep it simple and feel good.

CW: 4-panel comic displays a woman reading in the nude, meditating, hiking with her partner, and skinny dipping au naturel!

#naturism #SelfRespect #SelfCare #ChooseNude #nudism #SkinnyDipping #NudeHiking #NakedMeditation #ReadInTheNude #NonSexualNudity #FeelGood

It’s #MagicalMonday. Choosing comfort and skin-to-air contact is my favourite way to self-regulate.

Whether it’s a quiet soak at home or finding sanctuary in the wild, honouring your body’s need for space is the ultimate form of self-respect. Keep it simple and feel good.

CW: 4-panel comic displays a woman reading in the nude, meditating, hiking with her partner, and skinny dipping au naturel!

#naturism #SelfRespect #SelfCare #ChooseNude #nudism #SkinnyDipping #NudeHiking #NakedMeditation #ReadInTheNude #NonSexualNudity #FeelGood

It’s #MagicalMonday. Choosing comfort and skin-to-air contact is my favourite way to self-regulate.

Whether it’s a quiet soak at home or finding sanctuary in the wild, honouring your body’s need for space is the ultimate form of self-respect. Keep it simple and feel good.

CW: 4-panel comic displays a woman reading in the nude, meditating, hiking with her partner, and skinny dipping au naturel!

#naturism #SelfRespect #SelfCare #ChooseNude #nudism #SkinnyDipping #NudeHiking #NakedMeditation #ReadInTheNude #NonSexualNudity #FeelGood

It’s #MagicalMonday. Choosing comfort and skin-to-air contact is my favourite way to self-regulate.

Whether it’s a quiet soak at home or finding sanctuary in the wild, honouring your body’s need for space is the ultimate form of self-respect. Keep it simple and feel good.

CW: 4-panel comic displays a woman reading in the nude, meditating, hiking with her partner, and skinny dipping au naturel!

#naturism #SelfRespect #SelfCare #ChooseNude #nudism #SkinnyDipping #NudeHiking #NakedMeditation #ReadInTheNude #NonSexualNudity #FeelGood

It’s #MagicalMonday. Choosing comfort and skin-to-air contact is my favourite way to self-regulate.

Whether it’s a quiet soak at home or finding sanctuary in the wild, honouring your body’s need for space is the ultimate form of self-respect. Keep it simple and feel good.

CW: 4-panel comic displays a woman reading in the nude, meditating, hiking with her partner, and skinny dipping au naturel!

#naturism #SelfRespect #SelfCare #ChooseNude #nudism #SkinnyDipping #NudeHiking #NakedMeditation #ReadInTheNude #NonSexualNudity #FeelGood

Everybody's time is vital and so I will reduce my communications to more and more focused. Everybody needs some #fun but everybody needs #self-respect. #America lost itself respect a long time ago and didn't notice. That is why you're flailing. Trying to figure yourself out while you deal with it.

Even #InfinitePainter and 16GB of #memory still explode. I can't put two dozen layers in at one time. I have to build that. By the time you see an #8K that I want to sell, you have no idea. But that's how it should be. That's my #self-respect. Knowing everything that I did to give it to you.

This theme is objectively fascinating, actually…

Writing what feels like home vs foraging for dimension in the wilderness?

For Recovering People-Pleasers: On Safety vs Writing

Writing truly opens our eyes to the safety or precarity of language.

We tend to say what feels safe (palatable or polite), in public, in daily life. But writing is the arena where all is said. And, sometimes, we don’t realise how we relate to certain things, symbols, concepts or people until we touch the language around them.

Politeness and respectability in every day life mean we remain safe and adequately accepted, though there may be some self-betrayal involved. Candidness means social contracts are broken; the way people see us, adjusted. We become exposed to rejection and attack, alliances forming against us. Our brains may tell us it will be the same after we’ve written candidly.

They create an illusion of catastrophe even when no real social fall out can happen -given that our readers are usually people who already can stomach what we write or are not repelled when they disagree with our perspective.

***

What you have trouble writing out loud tells you who that piece of writing is for -that is, who your desired audience is; usually, I write for myself but sometimes my essays feel like a one-sided conversation with my community whom I realise are steeped in cultures of male worship. Thus, I usually have trouble being candid when writing topics that take a closer look at patriarchy; I start bargaining in my writing, I start sugarcoating, reaching into my cultural conditioning, I make an utter mess of things, at worst I even start sounding like the opposite of how I talk or live in real life -which is allowed in writing but in essays it comes off as an illegal misrepresentation or cowardice.

Yet writing about any topic at all under the sun should be, among other things, a fun thought experiment. Fun in the sense that no one has to feel that it’s warranted or interesting, but some do and it’s always eye-opening to find out why they do. Cue all the books that ever got you shook yet the theme didn’t seem appealing, initially. The mind should be allowed to go where it wants and no one should be off limits. Yet it’s easier to critique religion than a group of mortals?

Still, there remains a personal mandate to say what I mean. After all, if not in writing, then where can total freedom be found? But the words get stuck at the tips of my fingers. Because it feels unsafe to let them go. Again, it’s supposed to be possible to critique all manner of characters in society just for the love of thinking -after all, everybody easily critiques women as a concept in society. But the logic of the people-pleasing subconscious is that if a topic will cause people to shut down and refuse to hear you, why would you write about it? “That alienation is too dangerous.”

Not being agreed with is neutral and then there are times when it feels like the beginning or the middle of something dangerous. At least, this is what our conditioning may say.

Learning the skill of showing up even when you cannot be safe/heard/agreed with: Apply the practice of NOT writing for an audience to all pieces and forms of writing, especially when there’s a group of people you’d like to ‘monologue with’ now or in future -if I may call this one-sided conversation that. You’ll be surprised who might decide to hear you -if that remains important after the exercise. These judgments are created despite what others are actually thinking. Social attitudes shift long before certain opinions become mainstream. Also, your own environment may be more stringent than others, leading you to project onto readers who wouldn’t have had the same hang ups as you. Forget the readers while writing, then give readers the benefit of the doubt afterwards. In fact, surrender the project. Maybe no one will read it. But you must tell the truth according to your genuine perspective, minus your conditioning.

Different writers are drawn to different topics and it is a tragedy to deprive your point of view of a theme it wants to examine. For instance, some writers may be intrigued by interrogating the rule of men and all it perpetuates in society -good, mild or bad. (Good in quotes for those in the West, good ol’ good for black African women; the former is ready to overhaul everything, the latter leans on the cultural perspective of duty, compromise and benevolent patriarchy. It’s a long story that I love to see examined because the assumed superiority of men has been the crux around which we’re all organised -not God- and it’s intriguing to see people wrap their minds around this and what it actually means, ignore it, attempt to consciously accept it, attempt to live otherwise or attempt to change it while living otherwise. It is simply interesting nomatter which way you go… especially if you distance yourself and think of it as if we were all characters in a novel.

If it wasn’t men and it was anything or anyone else it would still be interesting to dissect because imagine a world running on a core philosophy for thousands of years only for people to decide otherwise… imagine everything that could happen next.

I’m enthralled with this movie. I hope more people are starting to understand that there are more themes to explore concerning patriarchy than dating and marriage -even though that’s a major theme and will draw the most public interest. The pervasive nature of patriarchy means the mainstream has only scratched the surface.) All this to say, this is a topic like any other and should never be too hot to handle. It’s intriguing when it psychologically comes across that it is. The ‘why’ of this is worth examining and writing, whenever the conviction is there. Yes, patriarchy has real consequences; yes it fosters a culture of all forms of violence and domination from emotional to physical and yes, we all perpetuate it whether through indifference towards toxic norms or by being the -usually- man who violated somebody (girl, woman, boy, man, nonbinary). It’s crucial that some are writing about all those perspectives.

What fascinates me is how different cultures either come to terms with it or alter it and why. (I doubt it will be truly dismantled in our lifetime. And there won’t be matriarchies popping up everywhere in our lifetime, either; no, having a president who is a woman does not automatically mean matriarchy. I doubt the rule of women is wanted; rather, people seem to be leaning towards a third option…) The English-speaking Internet tends to make the modern world sound so philosophically uniform, yet it’s really not still.

For instance, it’s not really that any of the epiphanies on social media are a surprise to Africans. There’ve been feminist movements on the continent even in precolonial histories. And men and women are more obvious about their patriarchal conditioning on the continent than in the West. The intriguing thing is the brand of stoic that modern African women are about these patriarchal dynamics for various reasons and how it influences the way they’d live a movement when they do actively participate…

That said, write what you want to nomatter how personally daunting that particular topic may be to you for whatever reason, given that you’re not in any real physical danger. Challenge your psychological alarm bells because therein lies a story, or maybe a lesson on writing through resistance, or on writing without lying to yourself -which is a skill in itself.

I think some alarm bells mean that certain writers are still shy to be objective about particular topics. The key to unlocking that type of writer’s block is in finding out *why* this is even happening, why certain subjects of thought experiments are culturally supposed to be sided with -or cast aside. Suspend any assumptions you already have, and inspiration will come flooding in.

This theme is objectively fascinating, actually…

Writing what feels like home vs foraging for dimension in the wilderness?

For Recovering People-Pleasers: On Safety vs Writing

Writing truly opens our eyes to the safety or precarity of language.

We tend to say what feels safe (palatable or polite), in public, in daily life. But writing is the arena where all is said. And, sometimes, we don’t realise how we relate to certain things, symbols, concepts or people until we touch the language around them.

Politeness and respectability in every day life mean we remain safe and adequately accepted, though there may be some self-betrayal involved. Candidness means social contracts are broken; the way people see us, adjusted. We become exposed to rejection and attack, alliances forming against us. Our brains may tell us it will be the same after we’ve written candidly.

They create an illusion of catastrophe even when no real social fall out can happen -given that our readers are usually people who already can stomach what we write or are not repelled when they disagree with our perspective.

***

What you have trouble writing out loud tells you who that piece of writing is for -that is, who your desired audience is; usually, I write for myself but sometimes my essays feel like a one-sided conversation with my community whom I realise are steeped in cultures of male worship. Thus, I usually have trouble being candid when writing topics that take a closer look at patriarchy; I start bargaining in my writing, I start sugarcoating, reaching into my cultural conditioning, I make an utter mess of things, at worst I even start sounding like the opposite of how I talk or live in real life -which is allowed in writing but in essays it comes off as an illegal misrepresentation or cowardice.

Yet writing about any topic at all under the sun should be, among other things, a fun thought experiment. Fun in the sense that no one has to feel that it’s warranted or interesting, but some do and it’s always eye-opening to find out why they do. Cue all the books that ever got you shook yet the theme didn’t seem appealing, initially. The mind should be allowed to go where it wants and no one should be off limits. Yet it’s easier to critique religion than a group of mortals?

Still, there remains a personal mandate to say what I mean. After all, if not in writing, then where can total freedom be found? But the words get stuck at the tips of my fingers. Because it feels unsafe to let them go. Again, it’s supposed to be possible to critique all manner of characters in society just for the love of thinking -after all, everybody easily critiques women as a concept in society. But the logic of the people-pleasing subconscious is that if a topic will cause people to shut down and refuse to hear you, why would you write about it? “That alienation is too dangerous.”

Not being agreed with is neutral and then there are times when it feels like the beginning or the middle of something dangerous. At least, this is what our conditioning may say.

Learning the skill of showing up even when you cannot be safe/heard/agreed with: Apply the practice of NOT writing for an audience to all pieces and forms of writing, especially when there’s a group of people you’d like to ‘monologue with’ now or in future -if I may call this one-sided conversation that. You’ll be surprised who might decide to hear you -if that remains important after the exercise. These judgments are created despite what others are actually thinking. Social attitudes shift long before certain opinions become mainstream. Also, your own environment may be more stringent than others, leading you to project onto readers who wouldn’t have had the same hang ups as you. Forget the readers while writing, then give readers the benefit of the doubt afterwards. In fact, surrender the project. Maybe no one will read it. But you must tell the truth according to your genuine perspective, minus your conditioning.

Different writers are drawn to different topics and it is a tragedy to deprive your point of view of a theme it wants to examine. For instance, some writers may be intrigued by interrogating the rule of men and all it perpetuates in society -good, mild or bad. (Good in quotes for those in the West, good ol’ good for black African women; the former is ready to overhaul everything, the latter leans on the cultural perspective of duty, compromise and benevolent patriarchy. It’s a long story that I love to see examined because the assumed superiority of men has been the crux around which we’re all organised -not God- and it’s intriguing to see people wrap their minds around this and what it actually means, ignore it, attempt to consciously accept it, attempt to live otherwise or attempt to change it while living otherwise. It is simply interesting nomatter which way you go… especially if you distance yourself and think of it as if we were all characters in a novel.

If it wasn’t men and it was anything or anyone else it would still be interesting to dissect because imagine a world running on a core philosophy for thousands of years only for people to decide otherwise… imagine everything that could happen next.

I’m enthralled with this movie. I hope more people are starting to understand that there are more themes to explore concerning patriarchy than dating and marriage -even though that’s a major theme and will draw the most public interest. The pervasive nature of patriarchy means the mainstream has only scratched the surface.) All this to say, this is a topic like any other and should never be too hot to handle. It’s intriguing when it psychologically comes across that it is. The ‘why’ of this is worth examining and writing, whenever the conviction is there. Yes, patriarchy has real consequences; yes it fosters a culture of all forms of violence and domination from emotional to physical and yes, we all perpetuate it whether through indifference towards toxic norms or by being the -usually- man who violated somebody (girl, woman, boy, man, nonbinary). It’s crucial that some are writing about all those perspectives.

What fascinates me is how different cultures either come to terms with it or alter it and why. (I doubt it will be truly dismantled in our lifetime. And there won’t be matriarchies popping up everywhere in our lifetime, either; no, having a president who is a woman does not automatically mean matriarchy. I doubt the rule of women is wanted; rather, people seem to be leaning towards a third option…) The English-speaking Internet tends to make the modern world sound so philosophically uniform, yet it’s really not still.

For instance, it’s not really that any of the epiphanies on social media are a surprise to Africans. There’ve been feminist movements on the continent even in precolonial histories. And men and women are more obvious about their patriarchal conditioning on the continent than in the West. The intriguing thing is the brand of stoic that modern African women are about these patriarchal dynamics for various reasons and how it influences the way they’d live a movement when they do actively participate…

That said, write what you want to nomatter how personally daunting that particular topic may be to you for whatever reason, given that you’re not in any real physical danger. Challenge your psychological alarm bells because therein lies a story, or maybe a lesson on writing through resistance, or on writing without lying to yourself -which is a skill in itself.

I think some alarm bells mean that certain writers are still shy to be objective about particular topics. The key to unlocking that type of writer’s block is in finding out *why* this is even happening, why certain subjects of thought experiments are culturally supposed to be sided with -or cast aside. Suspend any assumptions you already have, and inspiration will come flooding in.

This theme is objectively fascinating, actually…

Writing what feels like home vs foraging for dimension in the wilderness?

For Recovering People-Pleasers: On Safety vs Writing

Writing truly opens our eyes to the safety or precarity of language.

We tend to say what feels safe (palatable or polite), in public, in daily life. But writing is the arena where all is said. And, sometimes, we don’t realise how we relate to certain things, symbols, concepts or people until we touch the language around them.

Politeness and respectability in every day life mean we remain safe and adequately accepted, though there may be some self-betrayal involved. Candidness means social contracts are broken; the way people see us, adjusted. We become exposed to rejection and attack, alliances forming against us. Our brains may tell us it will be the same after we’ve written candidly.

They create an illusion of catastrophe even when no real social fall out can happen -given that our readers are usually people who already can stomach what we write or are not repelled when they disagree with our perspective.

***

What you have trouble writing out loud tells you who that piece of writing is for -that is, who your desired audience is; usually, I write for myself but sometimes my essays feel like a one-sided conversation with my community whom I realise are steeped in cultures of male worship. Thus, I usually have trouble being candid when writing topics that take a closer look at patriarchy; I start bargaining in my writing, I start sugarcoating, reaching into my cultural conditioning, I make an utter mess of things, at worst I even start sounding like the opposite of how I talk or live in real life -which is allowed in writing but in essays it comes off as an illegal misrepresentation or cowardice.

Yet writing about any topic at all under the sun should be, among other things, a fun thought experiment. Fun in the sense that no one has to feel that it’s warranted or interesting, but some do and it’s always eye-opening to find out why they do. Cue all the books that ever got you shook yet the theme didn’t seem appealing, initially. The mind should be allowed to go where it wants and no one should be off limits. Yet it’s easier to critique religion than a group of mortals?

Still, there remains a personal mandate to say what I mean. After all, if not in writing, then where can total freedom be found? But the words get stuck at the tips of my fingers. Because it feels unsafe to let them go. Again, it’s supposed to be possible to critique all manner of characters in society just for the love of thinking -after all, everybody easily critiques women as a concept in society. But the logic of the people-pleasing subconscious is that if a topic will cause people to shut down and refuse to hear you, why would you write about it? “That alienation is too dangerous.”

Not being agreed with is neutral and then there are times when it feels like the beginning or the middle of something dangerous. At least, this is what our conditioning may say.

Learning the skill of showing up even when you cannot be safe/heard/agreed with: Apply the practice of NOT writing for an audience to all pieces and forms of writing, especially when there’s a group of people you’d like to ‘monologue with’ now or in future -if I may call this one-sided conversation that. You’ll be surprised who might decide to hear you -if that remains important after the exercise. These judgments are created despite what others are actually thinking. Social attitudes shift long before certain opinions become mainstream. Also, your own environment may be more stringent than others, leading you to project onto readers who wouldn’t have had the same hang ups as you. Forget the readers while writing, then give readers the benefit of the doubt afterwards. In fact, surrender the project. Maybe no one will read it. But you must tell the truth according to your genuine perspective, minus your conditioning.

Different writers are drawn to different topics and it is a tragedy to deprive your point of view of a theme it wants to examine. For instance, some writers may be intrigued by interrogating the rule of men and all it perpetuates in society -good, mild or bad. (Good in quotes for those in the West, good ol’ good for black African women; the former is ready to overhaul everything, the latter leans on the cultural perspective of duty, compromise and benevolent patriarchy. It’s a long story that I love to see examined because the assumed superiority of men has been the crux around which we’re all organised -not God- and it’s intriguing to see people wrap their minds around this and what it actually means, ignore it, attempt to consciously accept it, attempt to live otherwise or attempt to change it while living otherwise. It is simply interesting nomatter which way you go… especially if you distance yourself and think of it as if we were all characters in a novel.

If it wasn’t men and it was anything or anyone else it would still be interesting to dissect because imagine a world running on a core philosophy for thousands of years only for people to decide otherwise… imagine everything that could happen next.

I’m enthralled with this movie. I hope more people are starting to understand that there are more themes to explore concerning patriarchy than dating and marriage -even though that’s a major theme and will draw the most public interest. The pervasive nature of patriarchy means the mainstream has only scratched the surface.) All this to say, this is a topic like any other and should never be too hot to handle. It’s intriguing when it psychologically comes across that it is. The ‘why’ of this is worth examining and writing, whenever the conviction is there. Yes, patriarchy has real consequences; yes it fosters a culture of all forms of violence and domination from emotional to physical and yes, we all perpetuate it whether through indifference towards toxic norms or by being the -usually- man who violated somebody (girl, woman, boy, man, nonbinary). It’s crucial that some are writing about all those perspectives.

What fascinates me is how different cultures either come to terms with it or alter it and why. (I doubt it will be truly dismantled in our lifetime. And there won’t be matriarchies popping up everywhere in our lifetime, either; no, having a president who is a woman does not automatically mean matriarchy. I doubt the rule of women is wanted; rather, people seem to be leaning towards a third option…) The English-speaking Internet tends to make the modern world sound so philosophically uniform, yet it’s really not still.

For instance, it’s not really that any of the epiphanies on social media are a surprise to Africans. There’ve been feminist movements on the continent even in precolonial histories. And men and women are more obvious about their patriarchal conditioning on the continent than in the West. The intriguing thing is the brand of stoic that modern African women are about these patriarchal dynamics for various reasons and how it influences the way they’d live a movement when they do actively participate…

That said, write what you want to nomatter how personally daunting that particular topic may be to you for whatever reason, given that you’re not in any real physical danger. Challenge your psychological alarm bells because therein lies a story, or maybe a lesson on writing through resistance, or on writing without lying to yourself -which is a skill in itself.

I think some alarm bells mean that certain writers are still shy to be objective about particular topics. The key to unlocking that type of writer’s block is in finding out *why* this is even happening, why certain subjects of thought experiments are culturally supposed to be sided with -or cast aside. Suspend any assumptions you already have, and inspiration will come flooding in.

This theme is objectively fascinating, actually…

Writing what feels like home vs foraging for dimension in the wilderness?

For Recovering People-Pleasers: On Safety vs Writing

Writing truly opens our eyes to the safety or precarity of language.

We tend to say what feels safe (palatable or polite), in public, in daily life. But writing is the arena where all is said. And, sometimes, we don’t realise how we relate to certain things, symbols, concepts or people until we touch the language around them.

Politeness and respectability in every day life mean we remain safe and adequately accepted, though there may be some self-betrayal involved. Candidness means social contracts are broken; the way people see us, adjusted. We become exposed to rejection and attack, alliances forming against us. Our brains may tell us it will be the same after we’ve written candidly.

They create an illusion of catastrophe even when no real social fall out can happen -given that our readers are usually people who already can stomach what we write or are not repelled when they disagree with our perspective.

***

What you have trouble writing out loud tells you who that piece of writing is for -that is, who your desired audience is; usually, I write for myself but sometimes my essays feel like a one-sided conversation with my community whom I realise are steeped in cultures of male worship. Thus, I usually have trouble being candid when writing topics that take a closer look at patriarchy; I start bargaining in my writing, I start sugarcoating, reaching into my cultural conditioning, I make an utter mess of things, at worst I even start sounding like the opposite of how I talk or live in real life -which is allowed in writing but in essays it comes off as an illegal misrepresentation or cowardice.

Yet writing about any topic at all under the sun should be, among other things, a fun thought experiment. Fun in the sense that no one has to feel that it’s warranted or interesting, but some do and it’s always eye-opening to find out why they do. Cue all the books that ever got you shook yet the theme didn’t seem appealing, initially. The mind should be allowed to go where it wants and no one should be off limits. Yet it’s easier to critique religion than a group of mortals?

Still, there remains a personal mandate to say what I mean. After all, if not in writing, then where can total freedom be found? But the words get stuck at the tips of my fingers. Because it feels unsafe to let them go. Again, it’s supposed to be possible to critique all manner of characters in society just for the love of thinking -after all, everybody easily critiques women as a concept in society. But the logic of the people-pleasing subconscious is that if a topic will cause people to shut down and refuse to hear you, why would you write about it? “That alienation is too dangerous.”

Not being agreed with is neutral and then there are times when it feels like the beginning or the middle of something dangerous. At least, this is what our conditioning may say.

Learning the skill of showing up even when you cannot be safe/heard/agreed with: Apply the practice of NOT writing for an audience to all pieces and forms of writing, especially when there’s a group of people you’d like to ‘monologue with’ now or in future -if I may call this one-sided conversation that. You’ll be surprised who might decide to hear you -if that remains important after the exercise. These judgments are created despite what others are actually thinking. Social attitudes shift long before certain opinions become mainstream. Also, your own environment may be more stringent than others, leading you to project onto readers who wouldn’t have had the same hang ups as you. Forget the readers while writing, then give readers the benefit of the doubt afterwards. In fact, surrender the project. Maybe no one will read it. But you must tell the truth according to your genuine perspective, minus your conditioning.

Different writers are drawn to different topics and it is a tragedy to deprive your point of view of a theme it wants to examine. For instance, some writers may be intrigued by interrogating the rule of men and all it perpetuates in society -good, mild or bad. (Good in quotes for those in the West, good ol’ good for black African women; the former is ready to overhaul everything, the latter leans on the cultural perspective of duty, compromise and benevolent patriarchy. It’s a long story that I love to see examined because the assumed superiority of men has been the crux around which we’re all organised -not God- and it’s intriguing to see people wrap their minds around this and what it actually means, ignore it, attempt to consciously accept it, attempt to live otherwise or attempt to change it while living otherwise. It is simply interesting nomatter which way you go… especially if you distance yourself and think of it as if we were all characters in a novel.

If it wasn’t men and it was anything or anyone else it would still be interesting to dissect because imagine a world running on a core philosophy for thousands of years only for people to decide otherwise… imagine everything that could happen next.

I’m enthralled with this movie. I hope more people are starting to understand that there are more themes to explore concerning patriarchy than dating and marriage -even though that’s a major theme and will draw the most public interest. The pervasive nature of patriarchy means the mainstream has only scratched the surface.) All this to say, this is a topic like any other and should never be too hot to handle. It’s intriguing when it psychologically comes across that it is. The ‘why’ of this is worth examining and writing, whenever the conviction is there. Yes, patriarchy has real consequences; yes it fosters a culture of all forms of violence and domination from emotional to physical and yes, we all perpetuate it whether through indifference towards toxic norms or by being the -usually- man who violated somebody (girl, woman, boy, man, nonbinary). It’s crucial that some are writing about all those perspectives.

What fascinates me is how different cultures either come to terms with it or alter it and why. (I doubt it will be truly dismantled in our lifetime. And there won’t be matriarchies popping up everywhere in our lifetime, either; no, having a president who is a woman does not automatically mean matriarchy. I doubt the rule of women is wanted; rather, people seem to be leaning towards a third option…) The English-speaking Internet tends to make the modern world sound so philosophically uniform, yet it’s really not still.

For instance, it’s not really that any of the epiphanies on social media are a surprise to Africans. There’ve been feminist movements on the continent even in precolonial histories. And men and women are more obvious about their patriarchal conditioning on the continent than in the West. The intriguing thing is the brand of stoic that modern African women are about these patriarchal dynamics for various reasons and how it influences the way they’d live a movement when they do actively participate…

That said, write what you want to nomatter how personally daunting that particular topic may be to you for whatever reason, given that you’re not in any real physical danger. Challenge your psychological alarm bells because therein lies a story, or maybe a lesson on writing through resistance, or on writing without lying to yourself -which is a skill in itself.

I think some alarm bells mean that certain writers are still shy to be objective about particular topics. The key to unlocking that type of writer’s block is in finding out *why* this is even happening, why certain subjects of thought experiments are culturally supposed to be sided with -or cast aside. Suspend any assumptions you already have, and inspiration will come flooding in.

This theme is objectively fascinating, actually…

Writing what feels like home vs foraging for dimension in the wilderness?

For Recovering People-Pleasers: On Safety vs Writing

Writing truly opens our eyes to the safety or precarity of language.

We tend to say what feels safe (palatable or polite), in public, in daily life. But writing is the arena where all is said. And, sometimes, we don’t realise how we relate to certain things, symbols, concepts or people until we touch the language around them.

Politeness and respectability in every day life mean we remain safe and adequately accepted, though there may be some self-betrayal involved. Candidness means social contracts are broken; the way people see us, adjusted. We become exposed to rejection and attack, alliances forming against us. Our brains may tell us it will be the same after we’ve written candidly.

They create an illusion of catastrophe even when no real social fall out can happen -given that our readers are usually people who already can stomach what we write or are not repelled when they disagree with our perspective.

***

What you have trouble writing out loud tells you who that piece of writing is for -that is, who your desired audience is; usually, I write for myself but sometimes my essays feel like a one-sided conversation with my community whom I realise are steeped in cultures of male worship. Thus, I usually have trouble being candid when writing topics that take a closer look at patriarchy; I start bargaining in my writing, I start sugarcoating, reaching into my cultural conditioning, I make an utter mess of things, at worst I even start sounding like the opposite of how I talk or live in real life -which is allowed in writing but in essays it comes off as an illegal misrepresentation or cowardice.

Yet writing about any topic at all under the sun should be, among other things, a fun thought experiment. Fun in the sense that no one has to feel that it’s warranted or interesting, but some do and it’s always eye-opening to find out why they do. Cue all the books that ever got you shook yet the theme didn’t seem appealing, initially. The mind should be allowed to go where it wants and no one should be off limits. Yet it’s easier to critique religion than a group of mortals?

Still, there remains a personal mandate to say what I mean. After all, if not in writing, then where can total freedom be found? But the words get stuck at the tips of my fingers. Because it feels unsafe to let them go. Again, it’s supposed to be possible to critique all manner of characters in society just for the love of thinking -after all, everybody easily critiques women as a concept in society. But the logic of the people-pleasing subconscious is that if a topic will cause people to shut down and refuse to hear you, why would you write about it? “That alienation is too dangerous.”

Not being agreed with is neutral and then there are times when it feels like the beginning or the middle of something dangerous. At least, this is what our conditioning may say.

Learning the skill of showing up even when you cannot be safe/heard/agreed with: Apply the practice of NOT writing for an audience to all pieces and forms of writing, especially when there’s a group of people you’d like to ‘monologue with’ now or in future -if I may call this one-sided conversation that. You’ll be surprised who might decide to hear you -if that remains important after the exercise. These judgments are created despite what others are actually thinking. Social attitudes shift long before certain opinions become mainstream. Also, your own environment may be more stringent than others, leading you to project onto readers who wouldn’t have had the same hang ups as you. Forget the readers while writing, then give readers the benefit of the doubt afterwards. In fact, surrender the project. Maybe no one will read it. But you must tell the truth according to your genuine perspective, minus your conditioning.

Different writers are drawn to different topics and it is a tragedy to deprive your point of view of a theme it wants to examine. For instance, some writers may be intrigued by interrogating the rule of men and all it perpetuates in society -good, mild or bad. (Good in quotes for those in the West, good ol’ good for black African women; the former is ready to overhaul everything, the latter leans on the cultural perspective of duty, compromise and benevolent patriarchy. It’s a long story that I love to see examined because the assumed superiority of men has been the crux around which we’re all organised -not God- and it’s intriguing to see people wrap their minds around this and what it actually means, ignore it, attempt to consciously accept it, attempt to live otherwise or attempt to change it while living otherwise. It is simply interesting nomatter which way you go… especially if you distance yourself and think of it as if we were all characters in a novel.

If it wasn’t men and it was anything or anyone else it would still be interesting to dissect because imagine a world running on a core philosophy for thousands of years only for people to decide otherwise… imagine everything that could happen next.

I’m enthralled with this movie. I hope more people are starting to understand that there are more themes to explore concerning patriarchy than dating and marriage -even though that’s a major theme and will draw the most public interest. The pervasive nature of patriarchy means the mainstream has only scratched the surface.) All this to say, this is a topic like any other and should never be too hot to handle. It’s intriguing when it psychologically comes across that it is. The ‘why’ of this is worth examining and writing, whenever the conviction is there. Yes, patriarchy has real consequences; yes it fosters a culture of all forms of violence and domination from emotional to physical and yes, we all perpetuate it whether through indifference towards toxic norms or by being the -usually- man who violated somebody (girl, woman, boy, man, nonbinary). It’s crucial that some are writing about all those perspectives.

What fascinates me is how different cultures either come to terms with it or alter it and why. (I doubt it will be truly dismantled in our lifetime. And there won’t be matriarchies popping up everywhere in our lifetime, either; no, having a president who is a woman does not automatically mean matriarchy. I doubt the rule of women is wanted; rather, people seem to be leaning towards a third option…) The English-speaking Internet tends to make the modern world sound so philosophically uniform, yet it’s really not still.

For instance, it’s not really that any of the epiphanies on social media are a surprise to Africans. There’ve been feminist movements on the continent even in precolonial histories. And men and women are more obvious about their patriarchal conditioning on the continent than in the West. The intriguing thing is the brand of stoic that modern African women are about these patriarchal dynamics for various reasons and how it influences the way they’d live a movement when they do actively participate…

That said, write what you want to nomatter how personally daunting that particular topic may be to you for whatever reason, given that you’re not in any real physical danger. Challenge your psychological alarm bells because therein lies a story, or maybe a lesson on writing through resistance, or on writing without lying to yourself -which is a skill in itself.

I think some alarm bells mean that certain writers are still shy to be objective about particular topics. The key to unlocking that type of writer’s block is in finding out *why* this is even happening, why certain subjects of thought experiments are culturally supposed to be sided with -or cast aside. Suspend any assumptions you already have, and inspiration will come flooding in.

"'Hope' is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops at all..."

- Emily Dickenson

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

We have to end #homelessness to have #self-respect. You can only stay distracted for so long & then you die. Or you can choose to not be distracted before then & do something different. If the whole body isn't healthy, the whole body is sick, right? If humankind is not one body, you haven't watched.

"You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

- A. A. Milne

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

#MissKittyRaw #MissKitty acknowledges the #ultimate #sacrifice of death as a service person. She also wants to acknowledge the ultimate sacrifice of #self-respect if we don't take our country back and make it good finally. We can get to great after a while. 🔦🎤💃 #RESIST 🗽🗽🗽 #VoteBlue 🩵🩵🩵

Caption
Everybody wants success quickly.
Very few people are ready for repetition, sacrifice, discipline, and loneliness.

Youth today don’t lack talent.
They lack consistency.

Discipline is not punishment.
It is self-respect. ⚡

The moment you control your routine…
your life starts changing quietly. 🔥
.
.
.

#AadhisPerspective #discipline #youthmindset #consistency #actorLife
#selfrespect #mindsetshift #growthmentality #lifelessons #AadhiLokesh #stayfocused
#disciplineequalsfreedom

"You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending."

- C. S. Lewis

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

Telling our children the truth I think goes hand in hand with being willing to be courageous enough to face any enemy and win or lose doesn't matter. My #self-respect matters. The shit that somebody may need after I'm dead doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter now. Liberty matters. #RESIST 💯💯💯🗽🗽🗽

"And the dandelion does not stop growing because it is told it is a weed, it does not care what others see. It says 'One day, they'll be making wishes upon me."

- B. Atkinson

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

"And the dandelion does not stop growing because it is told it is a weed, it does not care what others see. It says 'One day, they'll be making wishes upon me."

- B. Atkinson

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

"And the dandelion does not stop growing because it is told it is a weed, it does not care what others see. It says 'One day, they'll be making wishes upon me."

- B. Atkinson

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

"And the dandelion does not stop growing because it is told it is a weed, it does not care what others see. It says 'One day, they'll be making wishes upon me."

- B. Atkinson

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

"And the dandelion does not stop growing because it is told it is a weed, it does not care what others see. It says 'One day, they'll be making wishes upon me."

- B. Atkinson

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

"Optimism is the one quality more associated with success and happiness than any other."

- Brian Tracy

#motivation #selflove #love #selfrespect #esteem #resilience #recovery #believeinyourself #selfacceptance #selfappreciation #selfassessment #selfconfidence #dream

We spend so much time curating pixels, but people? They are the absolute priority. I learned this the hard way from an experience with an ex who could not put his phone down, even during intimate moments.

Giving your pure, undivided attention to the person in front of you is not just polite—it is a profound act of self-respect and respect for others.

You are telling them, "Your energy matters to me more than any notification." In a distracted world, your presence is a truly valuable gift.

Think of it as PurrEssence.

PurrEssence is about recognizing your own resonance. If a person, a place, or an experience makes you "purr" inside, that is your inner system saying, "This is exactly where I am supposed to be."

When you find those moments, honour them by being 100% there. Put the phone down. Breathe. Be.

Hosting an IRL coffee chat on Presence in Vancouver so if you are near or around, join us! RSVP at https://luma.com/purressence

#PurrEssence #HumanConnection #SelfRespect

We spend so much time curating pixels, but people? They are the absolute priority. I learned this the hard way from an experience with an ex who could not put his phone down, even during intimate moments.

Giving your pure, undivided attention to the person in front of you is not just polite—it is a profound act of self-respect and respect for others.

You are telling them, "Your energy matters to me more than any notification." In a distracted world, your presence is a truly valuable gift.

Think of it as PurrEssence.

PurrEssence is about recognizing your own resonance. If a person, a place, or an experience makes you "purr" inside, that is your inner system saying, "This is exactly where I am supposed to be."

When you find those moments, honour them by being 100% there. Put the phone down. Breathe. Be.

Hosting an IRL coffee chat on Presence in Vancouver so if you are near or around, join us! RSVP at https://luma.com/purressence

#PurrEssence #HumanConnection #SelfRespect

We spend so much time curating pixels, but people? They are the absolute priority. I learned this the hard way from an experience with an ex who could not put his phone down, even during intimate moments.

Giving your pure, undivided attention to the person in front of you is not just polite—it is a profound act of self-respect and respect for others.

You are telling them, "Your energy matters to me more than any notification." In a distracted world, your presence is a truly valuable gift.

Think of it as PurrEssence.

PurrEssence is about recognizing your own resonance. If a person, a place, or an experience makes you "purr" inside, that is your inner system saying, "This is exactly where I am supposed to be."

When you find those moments, honour them by being 100% there. Put the phone down. Breathe. Be.

Hosting an IRL coffee chat on Presence in Vancouver so if you are near or around, join us! RSVP at https://luma.com/purressence

#PurrEssence #HumanConnection #SelfRespect

We spend so much time curating pixels, but people? They are the absolute priority. I learned this the hard way from an experience with an ex who could not put his phone down, even during intimate moments.

Giving your pure, undivided attention to the person in front of you is not just polite—it is a profound act of self-respect and respect for others.

You are telling them, "Your energy matters to me more than any notification." In a distracted world, your presence is a truly valuable gift.

Think of it as PurrEssence.

PurrEssence is about recognizing your own resonance. If a person, a place, or an experience makes you "purr" inside, that is your inner system saying, "This is exactly where I am supposed to be."

When you find those moments, honour them by being 100% there. Put the phone down. Breathe. Be.

Hosting an IRL coffee chat on Presence in Vancouver so if you are near or around, join us! RSVP at https://luma.com/purressence

#PurrEssence #HumanConnection #SelfRespect