I Left The Table Because The Meal Was Lies.™ π½️
π₯ The Buck Stops With Me™
I went to the silent retreat to disappear. Three months. That was the plan. A holy hideout. I’ve done it before—sit, serve, vanish. A “good girl” disappearance. Respectable avoidance. Maybe even spiritual-sounding.
Pero this time? Life had other plans. π§
I lasted one month. Not because I failed— but because I finally stopped betraying myself. π«±π½π
I went to tend to the girl who got pregnant at 16, became a mami at 17, and was told by the church: “That baby is a bastard. God is mad. Your body is broken.”
Her name is: I’ll Show You™. π₯π
She’s the one who overachieved while bleeding. Smiled with swollen eyes. Handed out forgiveness like pan sobao. Held back tears in the diaper aisle. ππΌ
This month was for her.
And when the kitchen drama exploded—yo, I was out.
The manager came in like a tormenta. Loud. Controlling. Disrespectful. π« I tried. I got up at 4am. Washed the pots. Ate outside to stay grounded. π§½π₯΄πΏ
But my body said: No mΓ‘s. And this time? I listened. π§π½♀️π
Because “I’ll Show You” finally learned:
- Being Responsible Doesn’t Mean Being A Receptacle™
- Suffering Isn’t Sacred When It’s Silence Dressed As Service™
The shame spiral I used to feel for leaving early? I met it with cariΓ±o this time. The voice inside didn’t say “You’re bad.” She said: You’re free now. π️✨
I didn’t leave because I was weak. I left because I stopped normalizing dysfunction—even in sacred spaces.
Healing ain’t always incense and insight. Sometimes it’s packing your bags in peace. ππ π½
Inner child healing moment? Realizing I wasn’t the only one running. We were all there with baggage—emotional, generational, spiritual. Some of us were carrying church wounds too. ⛪ππ€
So for the teen moms who were told they ruined everything? Let me say this claramente:
- You Didn’t Ruin Your Life. You Saved Your Lineage™
- You Weren’t Broken. You Were Brave™
- Your Child Wasn’t A Curse. They Were Your Mirror And Your Medicine™
And now?
Now I’ll Show You™ speaks with her chest, not her wounds. π£️❤️π₯ I don’t owe anyone a performance—not even a silent one.
I Left The Table Because The Meal Was Lies™
And I ain’t ever going back hungry again. π½️πͺ
π΅π· We out here. Healing loud. Loving louder. With chancletas on and receipts in hand. Porque we don’t just survive—we shine. πππ½π§Ώ
πΏ Also explore wellness on my sister blog:
Anew Mirror
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