The Dream That Shook Me Awake

I had a dream that knocked the wind out of me.

Not the kind of dream you forget by sunrise.

It was full of conflict, faces I hadn’t seen in years, and energy that didn’t belong to me anymore.

But the part I remember most. The part that still makes my chest tighten is when I stood in front of a little boy and said:

“No, it’s okay… because I heard what you said. And I don’t care to be your sister anymore. Because when I did, you wouldn’t let me. And that hurt me to my soul.”

I was crying in the dream. Body-shaking, breathless sobs. And when I woke up, the tears followed me into the real world.

I couldn’t stop them.

It was the kind of release that came from somewhere deeper than words. The kind that tells you, your body remembers even when your mind forgets.

But waking from that dream?

It wasn’t a shift.

It was a reminder.

A reminder that even when you’ve already walked away, there are still fragments tucked in your spirit that ache to be acknowledged.

I thought I had let it go.

And for the most part, I did.

But grief is layered like that.

It doesn’t always show up in silence.

Sometimes, it storms in wearing the face of someone you used to love and leaves behind the echo of what will never be said.

I don’t speak to them anymore.

Not out of anger. Not out of spite.

But because my peace isn’t up for negotiation.

I spent too many years over-explaining myself to people who had already made their minds up about me.

Too many days trying to be understood in spaces where I was never truly seen. Trying to earn a love that was conditional at best and performative at worst.

And if I’m honest?

There were seasons where I would’ve done anything just to belong.

Where being included meant betraying myself just to keep the peace.

But now?

I no longer chase understanding.

I no longer keep doors open just because we share a last name or childhood memories.

I love who I love deeply.

But I also love myself too much to keep watering gardens that were never meant to bloom for me.

So if you’re wondering where I went?

I’m still here, just softer now.

Gentler. More still. More careful with where my energy goes.

I don’t move from survival anymore.

I move with sacred intention.

Because I’ve come too far.

And I refuse to be guilted back into versions of me I worked too damn hard to outgrow.

Healing isn’t always a journey forward.

Sometimes it circles back to remind you what you buried, what you survived, and what you’re still letting go of. One breath at a time.

 ✨If this piece found you in a tender place, I hope you let yourself feel it.

Take a moment. Journal. Cry. Speak a truth you’ve been avoiding.

And when you’re ready, share this with someone else, healing out loud.

You’re not alone. You’re not too much.

You’re just finally becoming yourself again 🫶🏽