with every layer of healing, i shed something that was never really mine. a belief. a survival pattern. a projection i inherited. and as each of those layers falls away, i get closer to the truth of who I really am. there was a time—even while i was speaking and teaching from a place of empowerment—when i was still quietly waiting to be rescued in my personal life.

by love.

by a man with money.

by something or someone outside of me that would swoop in and make things feel safe, soft, held.

but what i’ve learned is this: when i position myself as someone who needs to be rescued, i hand over my power. and i forget what’s always been true—i never needed a rescue. i just needed to remember.

and the remembering?

it’s not even a heavy lift anymore.

it’s soft. It’s consistent. It’s embodied.

it’s not loud and dramatic like the fantasy of being saved used to feel.

it’s slow joy.

it’s sovereignty.

it’s choosing things that nourish me—and watching the rest fall away.

i’m not waiting anymore. i’m not hoping someone sees me struggling and decides to save me.

because the more i align with the truth of who i am,

the more the idea of rescue fades altogether.

and what’s left is peace.

presence.

power.

i am not waiting.

i am remembering.