For a long time, I confused survival skills with personality.
I thought the hyper-vigilance was just “how I am.”
I thought the constant explaining was professionalism.
I thought the exhaustion meant I wasn’t trying hard enough.
But those were not traits.
They were adaptations.
I became who I needed to be to make it through systems that did not protect me, environments that demanded performance over truth, and expectations that punished softness.
That version of me was intelligent.
Resourceful.
Brilliant under pressure.
And she was tired.
Healing has been less about becoming someone new and more about meeting who I was before I had to armor up.
The quieter me.
The slower me.
The version that doesn’t scan every room for danger or approval.
I’m learning that I don’t need to keep proving my resilience.
I already survived.
Now I’m allowed to choose ease.
I’m allowed to choose clarity.
I’m allowed to choose a life that doesn’t require constant self-abandonment to maintain.
This chapter is not about toughness.
It’s about truth.
And the truth is:
I’m not who I had to be to survive anymore.