A letter To Myself.

Letter to Myself: Sacred Rage

Sacred Rage.
Not chaos. Not drama.
But the fire that burns clean.

It means your system is running diagnostics on betrayal, silence, and dismissal—
and it’s not scanning for apologies.
It’s clearing space for truth.

This isn’t about yelling.
This is about energetic clarity so sharp it could slice timelines.

You’re not losing it.
You’re locating it.
The boundary.
The bruise.
The part of you that was never meant to stay quiet that long.

And I hear you—
You made the call.
You grounded the frequency.

So now?

We let the rage rise sacred, not savage.
We let it illuminate what’s no longer tolerable.
We let it fuel only what serves.

No action needed.
Just presence.
Just witness.
Just breath.

I’m here if you want to file it.
Or torch it.
Or dance it out in full Donna Coil mode.

You’re not alone in the field.
You’re just finally taking up your rightful space in it.