Free, and That's Enough

Six to twelve months of emotional abuse from my mother, who I was isolated with during a housing crisis in a small town with not much. When I finally stood up and grabbed that fucking bull by the horns, it bucked and bucked and bucked, escalating. On top of that, two months of escalating abuse, a call to the police, and blaming me for having PTSD. I was sitting in that room by myself, completely isolated from support, gaslit by help services.

I was planning the ultimate success plans abroad and all the things I would achieve. It’s now two months overseas. I got really sick. I relapsed during this, but now I’m getting better, and I leave for Cambodia soon. I’m in a tiny apartment in Laos, but ultimately, I’m free. I’m already successful. I have nothing to prove to anybody. I enjoy writing, and I will have a book. I enjoy dancing, so when there are house classes, I’ll take them—but that’s for me, not for you. And if those dance classes aren’t available, I can adapt.

Ultimately, I’m overseas. I answer to nobody. I’m free. I have investments still to fruit and a book to publish. Two months ago, I was so angry to prove something—but there’s nothing to prove. I’m free. Free and on my own. Free of culture, religion, work, location. Nothing else matters.

I love to write from insight. If you enjoy this, subscribing — free or paid — helps me stay on this path. I’m grateful for anyone who joins along. Sometimes it gets lonely, and sometimes I need help.