John R. Miles

It's not.

It's when the fear of staying the same finally outweighs the fear of changing.

It's when remaining silent feels more dangerous than speaking up.

When staying small feels more painful than growing.

when pleasing everyone feels more suffocating than disappointing someone.

That's when the access tilts.

It's the moment you stop performing and start living.

Anne said something in our conversation from yesterday that fits perfectly here.

She told me improv breaks the second you try to look good instead of being real.

And that is so true in life too.

Choosing yourself again is the moment you drop the performance, you stop acting out the version of yourself that keeps everyone comfortable,

and you let the real version, the messy, honest, intuitive, evolving version step forward.

It's the moment you stop editing your existence.

It doesn't come with fireworks.

It comes with a full body exhale.

People romanticize choosing yourself, but it's not a movie montage.

It's not a big speech.

It's not a triumphant song playing while you walk into the sunset.

It's quieter than that.

It feels like a deep breath you haven't taken in years, a loosening in your chest,