Breaking the Rules

 For most of my life, I have been a rule follower.

As a child, rules were tied to survival. If I was good enough, careful enough, obedient enough, perhaps I could avoid punishment.

That belief followed me into adulthood.

When fear appeared, I looked for the rules.

And I followed them faithfully.

This past year, fear led me into a world of bladder rules—restrictive diets, canceled plans, avoided activities, treatments, procedures, and endless attempts to fix what felt broken.

I did everything I was told to do.

Including invasive bladder instillations.

I followed the rules the best I could.

Yet nothing truly changed.

A few days ago, something inside me shifted.

I decided I was no longer willing to organize my life around fear.

I began eating foods I had avoided for months. I started drinking coffee again. I returned to my yoga mat. I met friends for coffee. I took evening walks.

In short, I started living again.

And almost immediately, my bladder grew louder.

The old fear whispered, See what happens when you break the rules?

But another voice—the wiser one—asked a different question:

Am I being punished?

The answer that rises from deep within me is no.

I think there is still a frightened little girl inside me who expects consequences whenever she steps outside the lines.

A little girl who learned that freedom could be dangerous.

Today, I sit with her gently.

I remind her that the rules are not God.

The doctors are not God.

Fear is not God.

And punishment is no longer her story.