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Showing posts with the label dear-past-I-forgive-you

The myth of being yourself--- the identity we create vs. the one we live

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The Myth of “Being Yourself”: The Identity We Create vs. the One We Live      “Just be yourself.” It’s one of the most comforting lies we’re told. Not because it’s cruel—but because it assumes there is a single, stable “self” waiting patiently inside us, fully formed, untouched by fear, survival, or expectation. As if identity is something you discover, not something you negotiate with every single day. But what if “being yourself” is not a destination? What if it’s a contradiction? The Self We Create From the moment we become aware of being watched, we begin to edit. Psychology tells us this is normal. The human brain is wired for belonging. We learn quickly which versions of us are rewarded and which are quietly rejected. Smiles earn approval. Silence avoids conflict. Confidence hides insecurity. Over time, these adjustments harden into personality. Carl Jung called this the persona —the mask we wear to function in society. Not a lie, exactly, but not the whole tr...

Dear Past, I Forgive You

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    Dear Past, I Forgive You Dear Past, I’ve carried you on my back for so long. Like a bag full of rocks, heavy and unrelenting, weighing me down with every step. Sometimes I thought I’d collapse under the weight of all your memories — the good, the bad, the ones that still wake me up at 3 a.m. in a rush of shame or longing. But today, for once, I want to write to you. Not to curse you. Not to question you. But to say something I never thought I could: I forgive you. The Wounds You Left You weren’t gentle with me. You carved your lessons into my skin like scars, reminders of where I stumbled and fell. You made me trust the wrong people, love without being loved back, give pieces of myself I never got returned. You let me believe I wasn’t enough. You made me stand in mirrors and pick apart every flaw. You let me cry into pillows no one saw, scream into the silence that never answered back. And for years, I hated you for it. I hated the way you shaped me into someone who walks ...