Stop Arguing for Your Cage đŁď¸
âArgue for your limitations, and sure enough, theyâre yours.â â Richard Bach
Weâre taught to be humble. To stay in our lane. To know our limits.
âIf you argue for your limitations, youâll keep them.â
But what if some of those âlimitsâ werenât truth, just well-rehearsed stories?
âIâm just not a disciplined person.â
âI suck at relationships.â
âI could never do that, people like me donât.â
âIâve always had anxiety, itâs just who I am.â
I wore that last one like a badge.
Explained it away like a lawyer in court.
Presented evidence. Made my case airtight.
Because deep down, it was easier to argue for my fear than to risk proving it wrong.
At least if I lost while hiding behind my âlimits,â it wouldnât be my fault.
But hereâs the trap:
The more convincingly you argue for your pain, your stagnation, your smallnessâŚ
The more real it becomes.
It solidifies. Becomes part of your identity.
Until eventually, your suffering isnât just something you carry.
Itâs who you think you are.
And nothing keeps a person stuck more than believing their limitations are facts instead of habits theyâre too tired, or too afraid, to challenge.
âď¸ Ready to Break a Pattern?
The 30-Day Shadow Integration Journal was made for this exact reckoning.
To help you meet the parts of yourself youâve labeled as âjust the way I am.â
And askâIs that really true?
Inner Work
Todayâs prompt is simple. But it will sting.
Write this down:
âWhat limitation do I defend the most?â
Then write the excuses you use to protect it.
Every reason. Every label. Every story.
Now, ask this:
âWho taught me this was a permanent truth, and were they free themselves?â
If they werenât, maybe itâs not your truth.
Maybe itâs a cage you were born into.
But youâre the one still holding the key.
Letâs talk about it.
Whatâs the story youâve been repeating about yourself that no longer feels fair, or true?
Is it about love? Discipline? Creativity? Safety?
Have you started rewriting it?
What happened when you stopped defending it?
Reply or comment. Letâs talk about the prisons we built out of language, and the first cracks of light we saw when we questioned the walls.
All in all.
Your limitations may have been taught to you.
You may have rehearsed them so often they sound like instinct.
But you werenât born with them.
And what you learned, you can unlearn.
What you argued for, you can let go.
What you feared, you can face.
Freedom doesnât always come from force.
Sometimes it starts with a quiet decision:
I will stop making excuses for why I canât, and start making room for how I might.
You donât owe your limitations another defense.
You owe yourself a future.
These small notes arrive quietly,
like morning light through a cracked window.
No noise. Just truth.
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Thanks for reading todayâs Healing Text.
If youâre here, youâre part of something honest, something that makes space for healing without the performance. And I donât take that lightly.
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With gratitude,
â Ryan Puusaari âđ
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If it holds your ache, your becoming, your breath...
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