After that first moment — when I saw through the cracks — nothing felt the same.
It’s strange how everything around me kept moving like normal, but inside, a shift had happened. I couldn’t unsee what I had seen. I couldn’t go back to believing the story I’d been living. I started noticing things I had ignored before — the way people spoke on autopilot, the way emotions were suppressed, the way we’re told what’s “normal,” and how we’re quietly punished if we don’t comply.
It felt like I was living between two worlds: the one I used to accept without question, and this new, raw one where truth was starting to emerge — quietly, but powerfully.
When I look back, it’s hard to believe how deeply I was being controlled — and how normal it all felt.
I thought I was making my own choices. I thought my thoughts were mine. I thought I was free. But that illusion started to crumble when I woke up — not all at once, but in pieces. Quiet realizations. Sudden discomfort. A voice inside me that said, “This isn’t really you.”
The control wasn’t loud. It didn’t come with chains or cages. It came through expectations. Through systems I was taught to trust. Through beliefs that were handed to me so early, I didn’t even think to question them. I just lived them.
I started noticing how often I apologized for simply being myself — for speaking too much truth, for feeling too deeply, for not fitting in. I had been trained to shrink. To doubt my own intuition. To keep my head down and my voice soft, even when something inside me was screaming.
The control was woven into everything:
The way we’re educated to memorize, not to question.
The way media tells us what to fear and who to trust.
The way we’re rewarded for being “productive,” but not for being present.
Even the way we speak about love — conditioned, transactional, full of unspoken rules.
And perhaps the hardest part: I didn’t realize how much I had internalized it. I became my own warden. I policed my own thoughts. I convinced myself that freedom was dangerous.
But waking up showed me that the control only works when we don’t notice it. The moment we see it, we begin to take our power back — quietly, steadily, and without asking for permission.
I’m not writing this because I’ve figured it all out — I haven’t. I’m still unlearning. Still waking up. Still catching myself slipping back into old patterns and beliefs that don’t belong to me anymore.
But I share this because if you’re reading this and you’ve started to feel it too — that quiet discomfort, that inner knowing, that sense that something isn’t right — you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re beginning to see.
The control loses its grip the moment we become aware of it. That awareness is the beginning of freedom.
And from that freedom, something deeper can finally speak through us — not the version of us we were told to be, but who we truly are underneath it all.
“If you’ve awakened like me, then from this moment on, choose yourself — not their control.”
cgwksrch 