Control Your Narrative

What do I have control over?
Some days, it feels like nothing.
Like the world is a stage and I’m just trying not to trip over the props.

Don’t advertise what you’re doing.
Use your talents for good.
Establish history.
Leave a trail that speaks for itself.

Who can see you?
Who can you trust?
What can you prove?

We’re told to rely on objective information.
But emotions play louder.
Paranoia hums beneath the surface.
Who do you believe when everyone’s selling something?

The rich get richer.
Bonuses balloon.
Donors fund agendas.
And somewhere in the noise, you ask:
Who am I?
How can I make a change for the better?

Exposure feels risky.
Not because you’re hiding, but because you don’t want to cause harm.
You don’t want to make anyone look bad.
You don’t want to be the reason someone loses their footing.

What’s the priority?
Family.
Safety.
Stability.

But digging into the details—into bills, into systems—can stir things up.
What’s the ripple effect?
Do you keep things quiet?
Do you pretend not to notice?

Or do you control your narrative?

Not by shouting.
Not by accusing.
But by paying attention.
By choosing when to speak and when to listen.
By knowing that silence can be strategy, not surrender.

You don’t have to be loud to be powerful.
You just have to be clear.