It’s Not the Person, It’s the Program

A Field Report on Grace, Boundaries, and the Healing Power of Testimony

There’s a sacred truth echoing through the chambers of my heart after a sacred gathering with fellow musicians who also believe in healing ourselves and others through music with intention. God spoke to all of us that night through sounds, stories, and presence. As one musician shared a powerful story of loss, resurrection, and return, I felt the familiar threads of my own path reflected back to me. The veil between our journeys thinned, and in that moment of listening through presence, a divine message rang out with crystalline clarity.

One woman shared her testimony of deep betrayal, loss, and the long road home to herself. I felt the familiar echo of my own journey.

What softened my heart that night wasn’t just the music, it was seeing the human beneath the pain. The stories we carry aren’t just wounds; they’re maps. And when we share them, we lay down a bridge for someone else to cross.

I shared a piece of my story, too, how learning to love myself meant I had to stop pleasing everyone else. How I had to stop sacrificing my peace just to feel needed or accepted. And in that moment of mutual honesty, I saw it again…

The clearest message that pierced through was this:

“It’s not the person, it’s the program.”

And if we want to change the story, we have to stop fighting the person and start healing the program. In us, and in the collective.

Sharing our testimony is part of that healing. You never know who’s listening. You never know whose life you might soften, shift, or save, just by telling the truth.

We are all carrying weight. Just because you can’t see what someone is holding doesn’t mean it’s not heavy. Most people are doing the best they can with the tools they were given, or based on what was modeled for them in childhood. That doesn’t mean we excuse harm, but it does mean we can meet one another with more grace.

Invisible loads. Ancestral echoes. Childhood survival codes.

You don’t have to tolerate disrespect. You don’t have to abandon yourself for connection. You don’t have to keep people in your life who don’t honor your truth, your voice, your boundaries, or your healing. You can release with compassion, because they are wrong, but because you are ready to live right.

Sometimes the greatest love is choosing not to stay in roles where we’re spiritually malnourished.

Too often, we judge the person without understanding the operating system they were given.

But this isn’t about enabling harm.

This is about choosing grace without tolerating abuse.

🌀 Here’s what I now know to be true:

We do not have to keep people in our lives who:

Disrespect us, emotionally or physically. Try to “fix” us instead of love us as we are. Override our “no.” Diminish our truth to protect their comfort.

But we also don’t have to make them wrong to walk away.

Sometimes the most sovereign act is to release someone without revenge.

To bless them from afar while honoring our capacity.

Boundaries aren’t punishment.

They’re remembrance of what we’re no longer available for.

🌿 You can still have compassion without capitulation.

It’s possible to say:

“I see that you’re in pain… but I won’t absorb it anymore.”

“I know you’re doing the best you can… but your best is hurting me.”

“I love your soul… but I can’t stay in the storm you don’t want to leave.”

We don’t need to sacrifice ourselves for love.

Sacrifice for love is sacred.

But sacrifice of self for love…

That’s a distortion.

True connection never requires you to abandon who you are.

🔥 And the gift of testimony…

Each soul is a living scroll of resilience.

The women who shared her story and had lived through fires I could feel in my bones.

She had been trafficked, abused, and then discarded.

And still, she chose music. She chose healing. She chose to share.

In her story…

I saw my mother.

I saw myself.

I saw all the women I’ve ever tried to save…

And all the women I’ve become in the process.

Her truth softened me, not to be silent, but to be sovereign and more compassionate without continuing the cycle of self abandonment.

🕊️ The Healing Code of Storytelling

Your testimony is not a trauma dump. It is a truth scroll.

It is your soul’s declaration: “I made it through. And you can too.”

You never know who needs your voice.

You never know who’s praying to hear the very story you’re afraid to tell.

And in sharing it, you set yourself free, and open the door for others.

I choose peace over performance.

Boundaries over burnout.

Self-love over self-sacrifice.

And grace over judgment.

May you feel the same freedom to choose yourself.

May you trust that your truth is medicine.

And may we all remember:

Healing doesn’t mean tolerating harm.

Love doesn’t require you to lose yourself.

And the most sacred work of all is remembering who you are beneath the programming.

🐿️ The Squirrel Came to Play

Oh, and yes, there was a squirrel.

Not just any squirrel. A pet squirrel.

One that climbed over me like a child remembering I was safe again.

That little guardian came to remind me:

Even prophets need play.

Even truth-tellers need tenderness.

Even warriors need wonder.

💌 Final Transmission:

So if you’re in the middle of your own reckoning…

If you’re holding both rage and grace in your trembling hands…

Just remember:

It’s not the person. It’s the program. You have the power to decide what and who stays in your field.

May you never again sacrifice yourself for connection.

May you share your story and remember your power.

May you find the courage to set boundaries, speak truth, and still love with an open heart.

🕊️ You’re not alone and your voice matters more than you know.

Our voice is a healing portal.

When shared through song, love, and healing intent, the frequency ripples through every cell, every soul, and shifts those who are ready, back into love.