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There’s a moment in healing that doesn’t come with fireworks.
No dramatic goodbye.
Just a quiet, unwavering no.
And sometimes—a clear bell of yes.
A knowing that rises from the marrow.
This is what sovereignty feels like.
After relational abuse—whether emotional control, gaslighting, or subtle erosion—we often spend years trying to make sense of what happened.
We name it. We look for proof. We want someone to say, “Yes, that was real.”
But even with clarity, there’s still the long walk back to ourselves.
And that walk is about sovereignty—not in a loud, defiant way, but in the steady, embodied sense of I belong to myself again.
Sovereignty means self-ownership.
It’s the ability to stand inside our own life with clarity, agency, and rootedness.
Not rigid. Not defiant. But deeply attuned to what’s true—for us.
It shows up in the quiet moments.
In how we listen to our bodies before we speak.
In how we recognize manipulation—not just in words, but in energy.
In how we no longer explain our boundaries, only honor them.
For many of us, our boundaries were either slowly taken—or quickly invaded.
Sometimes it was a crash. Sometimes it was hundreds of small permissions we gave to survive. We smiled through tension. We silenced discomfort. We stayed when we wanted to leave.
To reclaim sovereignty is to stop outsourcing our knowing.
It’s feeling the no before we override it.
It’s trusting our gut before asking someone else.
It’s no longer needing to be understood to stay true to ourselves.
This kind of healing is soft.
It doesn’t demand perfection.
It asks for presence.
It whispers, I will not abandon you again.
And yes, it can be lonely at first. Because relational trauma doesn’t just shake trust in others—it fractures trust in ourselves. That’s why we reach for guidance, systems, or someone to tell us what’s real.
But sovereignty asks us to listen inward.
To feel.
To trust the truth we’ve always known.
We remember that we have the freedom to enter relationship—and the freedom to step away.
Not from fear, but from clarity.
We can acknowledge impact and still choose to walk.
As a therapist, I often recommend that clients leaving abusive relationships take a year off dating—not as withdrawal, but as reclamation.
A sacred pause. A chance to rebuild self-trust without falling into the familiar rhythm of self-abandonment.
It’s not about being alone.
It’s about becoming fully with ourselves—long enough to hear our own voice clearly again.
To the recovering people-pleasers (me!):
The ones who fear being seen as selfish,
Who flinch at the thought of disappointing anyone,
Who confuse self-abandonment with love—
Radical self-understanding is not self-absorption.
It’s the beginning of truth.
And truth is where real love can grow.
And one day, without even noticing, we realize:
The person we once needed permission from—
is now the one standing inside of us.
Rooted. Clear.
Speaking from the marrow.
~
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