Learning to Stand in the Open
The Terrifying, Holy Beginning by Jody Cunningham
Learning to stand in the open feels like being naked in a coliseum of onlookers. When the box finally breaks; when the identity you inherited collapses, and the walls you leaned on crumble, the structure that shaped you dissolves, and something unexpected happens. You don’t feel free. You feel naked.
You feel like someone peeled off your skin and left you standing in the wind. There is no map. No script. No familiar rhythm to fall back into. You’re outside the box, yes, but you’re also outside everything you’ve ever known.
This is the part no one prepares you for. Where you’re not celebrating. You’re shaking.
Because the truth is this: You’ve never stood in the open before. You’ve never had this much space. You’ve never had this much possibility. You’ve never had this much responsibility for your own becoming.
And it’s overwhelming.
You take a step forward, and it feels wrong. You take a step back, and it feels impossible. You stand still, and it feels like the world is spinning. Your mind whispers: Go back. At least the box made sense.
But your soul… Your soul is humming. It’s faint. It’s fragile. But it’s unmistakably alive. It’s saying: Stay. Stay in the open. Stay in the discomfort. Stay in the truth that is trying to take shape inside you.
This chapter... this trembling, disorienting, holy chapter - is where you learn who you are without the walls. It’s where you learn to trust your own weight. It’s where you learn to breathe without permission. It’s where you learn to take up space without apology.
It’s where you learn to stand.
Not as the version of you who survived the box. But as the version of you who outgrew it. This is the beginning of the beginning. The first breath of a life that finally fits. The first moment where you realize: You were never meant to be contained.
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