More Than One Truth

We are taught to worship certainty. To carve the world into right and wrong, true and false, clean lines that keep us safe. But truth is not a cage. It refuses to be that small. It fractures, multiplies, slips through the cracks of everything we were told to believe.

There is more than one truth.

The child who was abandoned can grow into the adult who is cherished. The body that carries trauma is the same body that holds pleasure. The damage done to us does not erase the power we reclaim. We are contradiction, we are rupture, we are the space where everything collides and nothing stays neat.

But we were trained to fear contradiction. To pick a side. To cling to one version of reality and call everything else a lie. To hold grief and joy in the same breath feels like madness. To name the violence without forsaking the love feels like betrayal. But healing doesn’t care about keeping the story clean. It demands we rip it open and let all of it spill out.

To live fully is to hold paradox in our bare hands—to name the wreckage without forfeiting the beauty, to tell the truth about what was stolen and still claim what is ours. To stare into the abyss of what we’ve lost and refuse to let it swallow us.

Truth is not a fixed point. It is a wildfire. It destroys and reveals, devours and exposes. When we stop trying to control it, when we let it burn through every illusion, we are left with something raw, something undeniable. Something real.