The “I’m Still Learning Me” Era

When My Own Heart Feels Like a Fight Ring

Some days, I swear I am in a full-blown boxing match with my shadow. Trying to teach the softer parts of myself that it is finally safe, even though my past keeps tapping me on the shoulder, whispering, “Be careful. Remember what happened last time.”

This season is gritty. Tender. Chaotic in that quiet, emotional way that hits at 2 a.m.
I am learning how to accept good things without shrinking myself down to fit someone else’s comfort zone.

💔 PATTERN BREAKING — When Good Feels Unfamiliar

The truth? I have spent a lifetime letting people too close, too fast, only to watch them drop the ball… or drop me.

And now that I finally have real love, real safety, real stability — my body still braces like it is about to lose everything.

That is trauma talking.
That is history echoing.
That is survival mode trying to run a department it’s no longer qualified to manage.

📉 WHAT I AM UNLEARNING — The Art of Not Being Small

I used to think shrinking was kindness.
That staying quiet was maturity.
That being easy to love meant never being too much or needing too much.

Turns out?
I was not being loyal.
I was being scared.

I made myself small because the world made me believe small was safer.

But I am past that era now. I am stepping into rooms like I belong there—because I do. I am training myself to hold space without apologizing for the square footage.

😶🌫️ THE STRUGGLE — When the Words Won’t Come Out

I am still learning how to express myself without choking on my own truth.
I have been fluent in pain for so long that joy feels like a language I have not mastered yet.

And that is the messy, unglamorous part of healing — grieving the versions of myself that only knew how to survive… while teaching the new ones how to live.

💛 CLOSING — I Am Not Shrinking Anymore

I am here.
I am trying.
And even on the days when my heart feels heavy and my voice feels locked, I am still reaching for something softer.

Maybe that is the real growth — not pretending to be healed, but choosing not to run from the good when it finally shows up at my door.