7/23/26

I’ve been seeing the same message everywhere lately. Decisions are portals. At first, it sounded beautiful. Romantic even. Every choice opening into a new universe. Every yes or no becoming a doorway into another version of myself. Then life reminded me that not every portal leads to paradise. Some open into chaos.

Lately, I feel like I accidentally wandered into the cast of a Tubi TV drama. Between trying to survive the demands of work, maintain a home, protect my peace, and simply exist, I somehow found myself standing between two obsessive, possessive people who both claimed to love me.

Love.

It’s fascinating how a word can become so stretched that its meaning begins to disappear. Because when someone says they love you while simultaneously making you fear for your peace, or worse, your safety… that line between love and hatred begins to look frighteningly thin. For the sake of my own survival, I no longer have the luxury of assuming someone will love me the way I love them.

Experience has stripped that innocence from me. I’ve watched “love” arrive wearing flowers only to leave behind bruises. I’ve seen affection transform into control. Protection become possession. Devotion become domination. I’ve carried black eyes, busted lips, scrapes, bruises, and invisible wounds that took far longer to heal than skin ever could. Those remnants taught me lessons I desperately wish I never had to learn.

For years I’ve written about love. Questioned it. Dissected it. Wondered if I’ve ever truly witnessed it in its natural form. The versions I’ve known have often been brief glimpses of sunshine surrounded by the most violent storms. Just enough warmth to convince me to stay. Just enough tenderness to make me question whether the darkness was really that dark. But every storm demanded something in return. Pieces of me. My confidence. My intuition. My voice. The safest parts of myself. Until one day I realized I had become a stranger inside a life I helped build.

That realization hurts because I cannot honestly place every ounce of blame outside of myself. I made decisions too. I ignored the tightening feeling in my chest. I explained away red flags. I mistook potential for character. I opened doors that my intuition quietly begged me to keep closed. I welcomed people into worlds I had spent years carefully building—spaces where I could finally breathe, create, heal, and exist freely with those who had earned access.

That was my decision. What they chose to do after entering those spaces was theirs. There is a difference. A painful one. But an important one.

Looking back, I realize life wasn’t punishing me. It was educating me. Every decision became a portal. Some carried me toward heartbreak. Some carried me toward wisdom. Every one of them revealed another piece of myself I hadn’t yet met.

My life seems to move in seasons. Long eras of breathtaking peace… Then suddenly… Bombs over Baghdad. Everything I thought was stable explodes. Old beliefs burn. Relationships collapse. Illusions dissolve. And somehow, every explosion leaves behind enough rubble for me to build something stronger than what existed before.

Maybe that’s evolution. Not becoming someone new. Becoming someone who finally believes the whispers she once ignored.

So today, I choose a different portal. Not one built from fear. Not one opened by loneliness. Not one unlocked because someone insisted they deserved entry. This one is built from discernment. From boundaries. From self-respect. From the understanding that peace is not something I stumble upon. It is something I protect.

I don’t know exactly what waits for me on the other side. But for the first time in a long time… I’m excited to find out.

Here’s to beautiful portals.

May every decision moving forward become another doorway back home to myself.

Sincerely,

Fierce Rebel