"They Told You You Couldn’t Fly... Then Quietly Clipped Your Wings and Called It 'Reality'."
I’ve known for most of my life that something wasn’t adding up.
The rules.
The limits.
The way people contorted themselves to fit molds that didn't quite fit.
Don't get me wrong..
I played along. Smiled. Nodded. And learned the script.
But deep down?
I always felt the jar.
👉The squeeze when I tried to think bigger.
👉The ache when I shrunk myself to stay acceptable.
👉The quiet knowing that this container, the one handed to me, shaped by fear, tradition, and "the way things are"...
WASN'T REAL
This post is for anyone who's felt that too.
Who’s ready to stretch out, shake loose, and stop apologizing for the shape they were meant to take.
"You Were Built to Soar—But They Wrapped Your Wings in Fear and Called It Wisdom."
There’s this old story Ayn Rand used to tell, about a culture that placed their babies in jars.
Literal jars.
They’d fit the newborn inside, soft and malleable, and let them grow into the shape of the glass. Arms twisted. Legs folded. Spines curled into strange, unnatural angles. The jar dictated the form.
Sounds barbaric, right?
But here’s the part that’ll punch you in the gut...
That’s exactly what happens to most of our minds.
Not with jars of glass, but with jars of assumptions, labels, and stories.
Invisible containers passed down from parents, teachers, preachers, and bosses.
Shiny, airtight jars like...
👉“Be realistic.
👉“Don’t aim too high.”
👉“That’s not how the real world works.”
👉“Success looks like X, and you’re definitely not it.”
And over time, your mind...
...once wild, curious, full of fire, starts to mold itself to fit.
At first, it’s subtle. A tightness in your tummy when you speak up.
A voice in your head that says “who the fk do you think you are?”
Then it becomes structural. Built into your decisions.
Time ticks by...
You don’t reach. You don’t risk.
You edit yourself before the world even gets the chance.
Because you’ve confused the shape of the jar with the shape of your worth.
But let’s get one thing clear:
Your mind ain't broken,
& You're NOT flawed.
You’ve just been compressed.
And tell me this...
What happens when you spend your life contorting to fit someone else’s container?
This...
You forget what freedom even feels like.
Forget that you were once expansive.
Had edges and dreams that couldn’t be charted.
Original thoughts...
Wild ideas...
Gut instincts that didn’t require permission.
And then?
The jar got tight.
The walls invisible, but very, very real.
And here’s the twist...
After a while, you start defending the jar.
You’ll call it “common sense,” or “being practical.”
You’ll say things like “this is just who I am” or “I’m not that kind of person.”
But that’s not truth talking.
That’s the jar talking.
Thing is... glass is brittle
Glass can break.
All it takes is a crack, a moment of clarity, a question asked, a refusal to keep bendin' over.
Sometimes it’s something someone says.
A gut punch from life.
A quiet afternoon when you finally realize:
“Wait… none of this was mine.”
The values you inherited.
Metrics you measure yourself against.
Fears you carry like old family heirlooms.
What if they were never yours to begin with?
Hmmm.
What if you’re not too much, or not enough, but just shaped to fit someone else’s expectations?
That ain't your failure.
That’s your origin story.
And guess what?
You can write a new one.
You can smash the jar.
Stretch your limbs.
And reclaim your original shape.
The one that was yours before the world started editing you.
And no, it won’t be neat or tidy (ask me how I know)
It might feel like chaos at first... messy, raw, a little dizzying.
But you know what else it feels like?
The kind of freedom that lets you build a business around your brilliance.
Say no without guilt.
Say yes without permission.
Serve your people without shapeshifting to earn your worth.
Because real impact—the kind that ripples, that matters, DON'T come from staying in the jar.
It comes from stepping out.
From finally trusting your own shape, even if it scares the B'Jesus out of everyone still sealed up in theirs.
So here’s a quiet reminder...
You were never broken.
Just beautifully misfit for the container you were handed.
And now?
Well...
It’s time to SMASH that jar.
And build something only you can.
So...
With shards at your feet.
Air in your lungs.
No jar in sight.
The question is...
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