Anger Isn’t the Problem, Direction Is… A Rage Perspective on Mindset People are terrified of anger. They treat it like a flaw. Like something that needs to be fixed, softened, medicated, or apologized for. Rage doesn’t buy that. Anger isn’t chaos by default. Unfocused anger is. There’s a difference. Rage learned early that anger is information. It shows up when: A boundary has been crossed Something is being tolerated too long Energy is being wasted Truth is being ignored Anger doesn’t appear randomly. It arrives with data. Most people panic when they feel it. Rage listens.
Tag: empowerment blog
Some Environments Make You Honest A Rebel Observation On Life! There are places where pretending doesn’t work. No matter how polished you show up. No matter how good your excuses sound in your head. The environment calls you out immediately. Concrete is one of those places. It doesn’t care who you think you are. It only responds to what you actually do. You step wrong, it tells you. You hesitate, it tells you. You lose focus, it tells you. Instant feedback. No commentary. That’s honesty. Rebel learned early that environments matter more than intentions. You can want
I’m Always the One Still Standing Rebel in the Garage, Building a Bike, While Everyone Else Disappears… The garage smells like old gas, hot metal, and bad decisions. Perfect. I’m halfway under the frame with a wrench in my hand when I hear it again , that familiar sound of people leaving. Not footsteps, exactly. More like energy. The vibe drains out of the room like someone pulled a plug. Conversations fade. Eyes slide away. Plans evaporate. Everybody suddenly “has to do something real quick.” Classic. I don’t even look up. I just keep turning the bolt
THE PERKS OF PMS — A FERAL USER manual INTRODUCTION: WELCOME TO THE TEMPORARY MONSTER UPGRADE PMS is not a weakness. It’s not a curse. It’s not “that time of the month.” PMS is a limited-edition feral buff where your body activates a version of you that could: lift a car, destroy a kingdom, burn a timeline, cry while doing taxes, sense a lie through three walls, and rebuild your entire identity in 48 hours. Your hormones basically say: “We’re rebooting the system. Hold still while we burn everything unnecessary.” Which is funny, because men call this an overreaction, but
My Discipline Is Chaotic, Not Cute People love to talk about discipline like it’s a color-coded planner, a pastel water bottle, and a perfectly lit desk. Good for them. My discipline? Oh babe… Mine looks like a garage, a goblin screaming in the corner, and a cup of coffee I forgot I made three hours ago. There’s no aesthetic here. No “morning routine.” No “boss babe” monologue playing in the background. My discipline is held together by: roller skate wheels that need tightening, a wrench I can’t find until I don’t need it, pure spite, chaotic momentum, and the
RECLAIMING THE PARTS OF ME I THREW AWAY TO SURVIVE I used to cut pieces of myself off just to keep the peace. I dimmed the fire I held within me. I softened the edges, though I still looked rough, even angry. I made myself smaller, sweeter kind of, quieter, all because the world told me survival depended on obedience. And you know what? It worked. For a while. Until it didn’t. Until the silence felt like suffocation. Until the “safer” version of me was nothing but a ghost walking around in my skin. So here’s the truth: I’m
The Bad Breed Maa’s Thanksgiving🦃 : A Feast Loud Enough to Wake the Gods Thanksgiving in the normal world looks like soft sweaters, family photos, muted “thank you’s,” and someone burning the rolls while pretending everything’s fine. Thanksgiving in the Realm? Different universe. Different rules. Different heartbeat. When the veil thins and the smoke rises from the pit, the Bad Breed Maa’s gather in whatever version of “home” they’ve torn together, part garage, part bunker, part roller-rink-from-hell, part safe-house built from grit and loyalty. This is how the feast goes down. ONE BAD MAA — The Anchor of the
ENTRY #001: TRANSMISSION FROM THE REALM [Realm Time 01:43 – Friday Night, lights low, the machine humming] “A log from the Architect of Chaos, when the world quiets and the fire reignites.” I’m writing this with the room quiet, streets faint outside the window, Command Center glowing like a cockpit. I can hear the fan in the laptop, that soft mechanical breath, like the machine’s reminding me it’s still here even when I am not. Two weeks thrown off rhythm will mess with your head. You start to feel like a ghost who used to live inside the body that
🩸 Built, Not Born — The Art of Becoming Unbreakable By One Bad Maa THE FIRE AND THE FORGE Some women are born strong. The rest of us were built that way , are seams welded together by heartbreak, failure, and the kind of chaos that doesn’t ask permission before it hits you really hard in the face, maybe even knocks you out, and leaves you for dead. But, yet, you survived! Being “unbreakable” isn’t about never falling apart. It’s about learning how to rebuild every time the world thinks it’s done with you, or, you’re done with it.