It’s always been hard for me to stand on my own feelings. I’d push mine aside for peace, for presence, for perfection. Keep face. Save face. Make everything look okay—even when I wasn’t.
I used to believe that people didn’t affect me. That if they said or did something, it bounced off me like nothing. “That’s them, not me,” I’d say. “I don’t care what they think.” But that wasn’t the truth. Their energy did affect me. Their wounds, their weight—I carried it. Quietly. Constantly. Whether they were close or not.
Because energy transfers.
And who you’re around? That’s who you start to become.
And I cannot be Briana if I’m shrinking. I cannot be Briana if I’m surrounded by people I’m out of alignment with. I’ve learned that I don’t have to feel bad for outgrowing things. I don’t have to turn it into some big dramatic goodbye. Knowing and choosing myself doesn’t always need to be explained. It just needs to be done.
Still, that’s the hard part. How do I walk away from people when I’m holding their secrets in my chest? When I know that if I leave, there won’t be much support of the one left behind? The truth is—I just have to. I have to do it even if it hurts. Because at the end of the day, all I really have is me. My soul. My peace. My truth.
I want to be surrounded by people who know me and don’t make me feel ashamed. I want to be in spaces that make me flourish. Spaces where I don’t have to second-guess my worth. I want to live authentically. And sometimes, that means stepping away—from people, from places, from old pieces of myself.
There’s life and there’s death, and sometimes you don’t know which one you’re choosing until you cut something off. You don’t know how much more alive you could feel until you stop cutting yourself down.
I’m not doing that anymore.
I am 23.
2 + 3 = 5.
And 5 means change.
And change is here; I’m making it and embracing it.
