They don’t always clap for this kind of freedom.
Not the kind that’s wrapped in red, white, and blue.
Not the kind that looks good in Instagram quotes.
Not the kind you celebrate with fireworks and grilled ribs.
I’m talking about the quiet kind of freedom.
The kind you bleed into.
The kind that costs you everything familiar.
The kind you almost don’t recognize—because it doesn’t come with applause.
Freedom, when you’re healing, looks different.
Sometimes it’s walking away from a relationship you begged God to fix.
Sometimes it’s saying, “I forgive you,” without ever hearing “I’m sorry.”
Sometimes it’s choosing silence over a final word, peace over proving your point.
They don’t talk about how lonely it feels.
How letting go doesn’t come with closure.
How choosing YOU feels like betrayal to everyone who benefited from your silence.
But still… it’s freedom.
It’s the first full breath you take after being buried under expectation.
It’s the stillness that follows when you stop explaining yourself.
It’s the sacred moment you choose your mental peace over their comfort.
They told us freedom was loud.
That it was all confidence and clapbacks and marching to the beat of your own drum.
But healing will humble that image.
Because real freedom?
Looks like shaking hands.
Unsent letters.
Prayers with no words.
Rest when you’re used to running.
Releasing who you used to be just to survive.
It’s uncomfortable.
But it’s necessary.
And if you’re in that space?
Where your freedom doesn’t look like the world’s version of “winning”—
You’re still doing it right.
So no, this post won’t go viral.
It’s not flashy.
It’s not a trending soundbite.
But maybe it’s the reminder you needed:
You’re not weak for choosing peace.
You’re not cold for saying less.
You’re not wrong for protecting your energy.
You’re just free now.
And free you don’t move like caged you.
Breathe soft.
Speak loud.
Exhale love.
—Kae Jaye
Kae Jaye The Writer 