The tragedy is that Jordan succeeded. I didn't. At least not yet.
As I grew older, I realized life isn't as simple as working hard and getting what you deserve. We like to believe we're calling all the shots—that our success comes purely from our effort and our failures are entirely our fault. But beneath the surface, something much bigger quietly shapes our decisions. Invisible patterns influence the way we think, behave, react, and even define ourselves. We unknowingly participate in them until they become normal. Eventually, we stop questioning them altogether, even when they're hurting us.
Last month, I said I'd start writing about patterns—how to recognize them, how to see through them, and how doing so can help you protect yourself. More importantly, how to distinguish what truly belongs to you from what has been programmed into you: your thoughts, your emotions, your fears, your ambitions, and even your identity.
Before we go any further, I want to warn you about something.
Once you begin seeing these patterns, you won't be the same person anymore. Most people think awakening makes life easier because you finally understand what's happening. In reality, it often becomes harder.
When you start seeing through the illusion, you unintentionally become a mirror for people who are still asleep. Many won't appreciate that reflection. Some friends will drift away. Family members may suddenly appear different. Relationships that once felt unquestionable begin revealing cracks. You start seeing how much of the world runs on invisible scripts, social conditioning, manipulation, and collective beliefs that nobody seems willing to question.
It's frustrating.
It's infuriating.
Naturally, you'll want to rebel against everything.
But here's the strange part: even rebellion is part of the game. Every system needs its rebels just as much as it needs its followers. The game survives because both sides keep playing.
I've gone through those stages—anger, resentment, rebellion, frustration—only to realize how exhausting and ultimately pointless they became. Fighting every battle only chained me to the very thing I wanted to escape.
So how do you step outside of it?
I do have an answer.
But first, we need some background.
Have you ever heard of Edward Bernays? He was Sigmund Freud's nephew and is widely regarded as the father of modern public relations. He wrote a book called Propaganda nearly a century ago, and many of the techniques he introduced still shape our lives today.
Take engagement rings, for example. The idea that a diamond ring is a necessary symbol of love wasn't an ancient tradition. It became a cultural expectation through brilliant marketing campaigns.
Or consider smoking.
There was a time when women smoking cigarettes was considered improper and socially unacceptable. Bernays helped change that by orchestrating a campaign where wealthy, fashionable women publicly smoked during a parade. Newspapers framed it as women lighting their "Torches of Freedom." Overnight, smoking transformed from a social taboo into a symbol of empowerment.
The tobacco industry didn't just gain customers.
It gained an entire gender of consumers.
They sold the illusion of freedom while selling cancer.
Today, if someone questioned those ideas, many people would laugh. They'd call them oversensitive, old-fashioned, or foolish. That's the power of normalization. Once something becomes part of culture, we stop asking whether it was ever our own choice in the first place.
How much suffering does it take before a species begins questioning whether bringing children into the world is even ethical?
Personally, I don't want to bring children into this world.
Ironically, our family is about to welcome a new member, and I'm genuinely happy about that. But it doesn't change the questions I keep asking myself.
When you've spent years being manipulated, ignored, or emotionally abused, eventually something inside you reacts.
And when you finally speak up...
You're called the difficult one.
The problem.
The angry one.
The ungrateful one.
When you express resentment after years of being silenced, people focus on your reaction rather than asking what caused it. The reaction becomes the crime. What caused it disappears. The next time you find yourself feeling angry, irritated, anxious, or constantly on edge, I want you to pause before blaming yourself. Maybe you aren't the problem.
Maybe your nervous system is responding exactly the way it was designed to respond after enduring years of stress, neglect, or emotional violence.
That response has a name.
It's called reactive abuse.
Before we start talking about concepts like gaslighting, trauma bonding, or psychological manipulation, I wanted to begin here—with reactive abuse.
Because, in many ways, my writings is my own reaction.
It's my attempt to make sense of what I was made to live through. It might make some people uncomfortable. It might challenge beliefs people have held for years. Or maybe it will simply help one person realize they aren't losing their mind. If that happens, then writing this was worth it. Because understanding reactive abuse isn't just about psychology. It's about building families where people feel heard instead of judged. Workplaces that don't feel like battlefields. Communities that don't punish vulnerability. And a society where healing matters more than appearances.
Only then can we begin creating environments where people no longer have to scream just to prove they're hurting.
Happy Sunday Fellas, Have a peaceful one! ❤️🤗
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