the sharp thwack of my glove connecting, it’s a sound that used to make me jump, trained to expect impact but never choose it, always just receiving; but today the impact was just… output, a release. it’s like some old tension, deep in my spine, actually untwisted, a physical unsnapping I didn’t even realize was locked. and that’s the thing, isn’t it, the body holds onto the stories even when the mind tries to rewrite them, telling itself everything’s fine, everything’s different now, these people are GOOD. my shoulders, they’ve finally started to sink, to settle, like they’ve found their natural resting place, not perpetually braced for an incoming storm, and yet there's a persistent jolt when my phone vibrates after six, a residual tremor, a reminder that the conditioning runs so deep, that some part of me is always prepping for the next demand, the next un-meetable request. it’s a strange balance, this feeling of genuine expansion, this ability to actually BREATHE without feeling like it’s a wasted breath, juxtaposed with the low hum of vigilance, the 'escape plan' fund still sitting there in its separate account, an illogical comfort, because a part of me knows safety is precious but also, dangerously, fleeting. the fear isn't gone, it's just... rearranged, maybe, from a screaming siren to a distant, almost melodic, hum, a background note. my boss @s for a minute and my stomach still plunges, that old reflex, even though it's never bad news here, never. just a habit, a muscle memory of expecting the axe to fall after a moment of calm.