I Belong to Me

I was drowning.

Not in water though— in noise. My life was showing up in ways that made everything feel like it was slipping through my fingers. It was all so intense. The outside was dragging me under.

I kept sinking, just trying to hold my breath long enough to make it back to shore. But the fear wouldn’t let go of me. And the noise became so loud that I couldn’t even see the land anymore.

So I sent out a distress call, praying that this last tiny flare would stop the current from pulling me too far. And It did. Someone saw. They reached out. Help arrived. And for a moment, I let myself breathe again.

But here’s what no one tells you: sometimes when someone pulls you from the water, new hands start gripping at your ankles. Not to save you— but to see if you’ll let yourself be held there.

I could feel it. The subtle shift. The unspoken math. The silent expectation. It was like relief came with a quiet receipt.

I was broken, but I could still feel all around me. The Stories forming. Whispers floating. Versions of me that I hadn’t written moving through the lips of the uninitiated. Rumors trying to turn my survival into a headline. My silence into guilt.

And even now, words are still swirling— trying to turn my newfound steadiness into something suspicious.

Before, I didn’t fight back. I didn’t chase the truth through the mouths of other people. Because to be honest— I was too busy surviving. So I just stood where I was, listening to my own breath.

And this is what I’ve learned since then: help is not ownership. Relief is not a leash. And gratitude does not mean I hand over my spine.

I can say thank you without shrinking. I can receive without being claimed. I can be saved from the moment without being bound to it.

So listen. If anyone is wondering who I answer to now— it really is quite simple. I belong to me. And this time, I’m not letting go. Period.

🌙 What the body knows

To the ones who are learning how to receive without being owned— your breath will tell you when a gift is clean. If your chest stays open and your spine stays tall, you still belong to you. Keep it that way.