Why do we think hiding is the safest answer for everything?

When I chose to hide from the world, I wasn’t just hiding from people.

I was hiding from myself.

From my voice.
From my reactions.
From the parts of me that were louder than I knew how to handle.

It felt easier to shrink than to sit in the full truth of who I was becoming.

Shrinking requires less explanation.
Less confrontation.
Less responsibility.

But shrinking also requires pretending.

And pretending eventually costs more than honesty ever could.

For me, it cost consistency.

When I hid, I disappeared in waves.
I would start strong.
Feel something heavy.
Then retreat.

Not because I was lazy.
Not because I didn’t care.

But because I didn’t know how to sit with myself without exploding.

And exploding feels powerful in the moment.
But it leaves damage behind.

I was explosive.
I can still be explosive.

The difference now is I don’t abandon myself afterward.

Back then, hiding felt like recovery.
Now I understand it was regression.

I didn’t know what else to do.

So I shrank.

But I’m not shrinking anymore.

Consistency is not about perfection.
It’s about staying.

Staying when it’s uncomfortable.
Staying when it’s quiet.
Staying when no one is applauding.

There is no more target living inside of me.

There is only a woman learning how to remain.