There was a time when I thought freedom meant running away.

From rules.
From expectations.
From the weight of “you have to.”

I grew up with a constant pressure on my shoulders. Not the kind you can see, like bags or bricks. No — the invisible kind. The kind that follows you around and sits on your chest when you try to sleep. Responsibility was sewn into my skin before I had the chance to discover who I really was. I was the “good girl,” the one who always helped, stayed quiet, performed, obeyed, adjusted.

And yet, deep inside me… something screamed.

It was faint at first. Just a whisper.
But as I got older, the scream grew louder.

It wasn’t rebellion. Not really.
It was longing. For truth. For space. For a life where I could breathe without asking permission.

When I Thought Freedom Meant Escape

I believed moving out, making money, being on my own — that that would be freedom. I imagined it like an open road stretching forever, no chains, just wind and stars and me becoming someone else. But when I finally “escaped,” reality hit me like cold water.

I had just traded one cage for another.
Different walls. Same prison.

I was still overworked. Still burned out. Still pleasing. Still bending over backwards for survival.
The only difference? I was alone in it now.

And then came the shadow side.

There were moments when freedom looked like death.
I’d think, “What if I just stopped existing?”
Not because I wanted to die, but because the weight of living someone else’s life felt heavier than the idea of not living at all.

I felt trapped in a game I never signed up to play. I was looking for an exit, not realizing I needed an entry — into myself.

What If Freedom Isn’t Out There?

I started to realize… maybe freedom isn’t a place. Or a situation. Or a specific set of conditions.
Maybe it’s not about doing whatever you want, or cutting off every obligation.

Maybe freedom is being true — even when no one else understands it.
Even when people think you’re “too much,” “too intense,” “too sensitive.”

Maybe freedom is… not needing to shrink.

It’s being able to say, “This is who I am,”
and letting that be enough.

The Loneliness of Authenticity

I won’t lie — choosing authenticity over acceptance is brutal.
There are days when I feel completely alone. When it feels like no one truly sees me because I refuse to wear the masks anymore.

But there’s also something sacred in that solitude.
In silence, I found my soul again.

I learned that I don’t want freedom from life.
I want freedom within life.

I don’t want to run. I want to stand still and feel every damn thing.
The rage. The grief. The power. The joy.
Because only through that rawness do I finally taste something real.

The Spiritual Lesson

Freedom isn’t a gift. It’s a test.
It asks you:

“Will you choose yourself when the world doesn’t?”
“Will you keep listening to your truth, even when it shakes you?”
“Will you walk alone, if that’s the price for alignment?”

To be free is to meet your shadows — to face your deepest wounds and stay, instead of fleeing.
To choose wholeness, not perfection.
To create a life that isn’t “aesthetic” but honest.

And now, I understand why my soul chose this path.

I was never meant to fit in.
I was meant to wake up.

With Love, Sofy