Every place we go, we’re told how to live. Quietly, subtly, and sometimes loudly. People don’t even realize they’re doing it—passing on rules dressed up as values, expectations disguised as love. “Get a job. Make money. Find a spouse. Buy a house. Don't talk too much about your feelings. Forget what hurt you. Be strong. Be silent.” And if you don't follow that script? You’re called broken. Or lazy. Or too sensitive. Or worst of all—ungrateful. But what if the script is wrong? I didn’t just wake up one day and question these things. Life cracked me open. Trauma forced me to see the cracks in the system, the silence in the spaces where people should have been speaking up. I almost died from a pulmonary embolism that doctors ignored. I suffered deeply—emotionally, physically, spiritually—and it cost me years of my life. But it also gave me something most people never get: clarity. The kind you earn, not inherit.