Uncertainty is the Breaking Point

I don’t melt down in chaos.

I melt down in fog.

Chaos can be responded to.

Fog keeps you guessing.

That difference is everything.

My Part (Owned, Not Apologized For)

Let’s be clear.

I delayed decisions.
I left things unsaid.
I told myself I’d deal with it “later.”

Sometimes that was fear.
Sometimes it was exhaustion.
Sometimes it was survival.

If you want to call that a defect of character, fine.
I’ve already done the inventory.
I’m not stuck there anymore.

What Took Longer to See

Here’s the part that took years to land:

What dysregulated me stabilized other people.

Ambiguity made my body tense.
It made my thinking spiral.
It made me work harder, guess more, over-function.

For people with power in my life, that same ambiguity created comfort.

That’s not coincidence.

How Fog Actually Works

Fog sounds gentle:

“We’ll see.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“It’ll work out.”
“You don’t need to know.”

But fog does something very specific.

It keeps you:

• Trying to read the room
• Adjusting yourself constantly
• Unsure where you stand

You know:

What breaks first

• What fails silently
• Who gets hurt downstream
• How long it takes to recover
• Afraid to push too hard

And if you’re conscientious — if you care — you’ll fill in the gaps yourself.

You’ll become responsible without being protected.
Loyal without being chosen.
Available without being secure.

Dependence Isn’t an Accident

Here’s the uncomfortable truth.

When someone controls clarity, they control relief.

If you need them to explain:

• Where you stand
• What’s expected
• What happens next

Then you stay close.
You stay careful.
You stay compliant.

Dependence creates loyalty.

But loyalty created this way is never returned — because returning it would require clarity.

And clarity would break the spell.

Why My Body Never Felt Safe

People love to pathologize this part.

They call it anxiety.
They call it overthinking.
They call it borderline.

But my nervous system wasn’t malfunctioning.

It was responding to an environment where:
• The rules shifted
• The floor moved
• Safety was implied, never stated

A nervous system can’t rest inside permanent uncertainty.

It just can’t.

When I Started Naming Things

The moment I began asking simple questions —

Where do I stand?
What happens if this fails?
What am I actually responsible for?
What happens if I say no?

— the tone changed.

Suddenly I was:

• Difficult
• Intense
• A problem

That’s how you know you’ve touched something real.

Fog only feels benign until someone starts clearing it.

What I Know Now

Ambiguity always lands somewhere.

If nothing is defined, the most aware person pays.
If expectations are vague, the most conscientious person absorbs the stress.
If love depends on confusion, it isn’t love.

I don’t debate this anymore.

How I Live Now

If something matters:

• We name it
• We say it out loud
• We make it real

If it needs fog to survive, it doesn’t get access to my body.

That’s not rigidity.
That’s self-respect.

Closing

My voice doesn’t need permission.

It creates its own gravity by saying the thing people feel but were trained not to name.

Some people will feel relieved.
Others will feel exposed.

Both reactions are information.

Clear words.
Steady body.
No fog.