Reject False Resurrection
The Illusions Meant To Keep You Manageable
After the death of the survival self, the world will not leave you in peace. It'll rush to offer you versions of rebirth small enough to fit inside the old architecture of your life and hand you masks shaped like healing, crowns fashioned from old expectations, thrones built from the need to be seen and approved. It’ll call you brave for surviving, so long as you don’t rise too big.
But you who crossed the true threshold know: the resurrection they offer is a second burial, a quieter death, a surrender back into sleep. And you did not endure the burning of your own personal hell to trade one captivity for another.
No, you will not accept a resurrection crafted by the hands of the world you outgrew. You will not soften yourself to be more digestible and will not shrink your devotion to fit the hunger of those who never dared to descend. You will not negotiate with the remnants of a life you buried in good faith.
You recognize the offerings for what they are: illusions meant to keep you manageable. And with the same holy fire that stripped you bare, you refuse them. Instead, you choose the path that makes no promises of approval, the path that demands you crown yourself without witness, applause, or permission.
There is no ceremony for women like us who refuse the false resurrection. Only the steady silence of a soul that knows we chose the harder road, the one that leads to true sovereignty.
No one handed us our crown. It was built with every breath we drew beyond the walls that once caged us. Our seat on the throne was not given to us. It rose beneath our feet as we walked, stone by stone. We are no longer becoming. We are already sovereign.
In devotion,
Christina
Do What Thou Wilt Shall Be The Whole Of The Law.