Who Was My Audience and Why It Was Wrong
Before salvation, before healing even felt possible, my audience lived in the world’s applause. It was loud, chaotic, intoxicating. The kind of audience that cheers for destruction disguised as freedom, for fast fixes that feel powerful in the moment and hollow afterward. They clapped for rebellion, for drama, for the version of you that burns bright and burns out fast.
The script was clear: play the role they assigned you. Don’t question it. Don’t slow down. Don’t show weakness. Emotion, in that environment, wasn’t humanity it was a liability. Vulnerability was something predators could sense and exploit. So I learned to perform. I wore strength like armor while cracking on the inside. I perfected the art of appearing unbothered while quietly unraveling.
And let me be clear: this environment isn’t just a physical place with concrete walls and locked doors. It’s a culture. A culture that teaches you to hide pain, glamorize damage, and chase what looks like power instead of what actually heals you. It rewards performance over honesty and noise over truth.
Over time, my audience shifted with every decision I made. The people who genuinely loved me my family, my children, those who wanted my wholeness faded into the background. In their place stood the crowd that thrived on spectacle: gossip, chaos, and approval that came at a cost. I began performing a version of myself that didn’t belong to me anymore. It could survive the show, but it couldn’t survive the truth.
There was a moment quiet, sobering when the carousel slowed just enough for me to see it clearly. That audience didn’t care about my soul. They cared about the drama I provided, the stories they could tell about me, the chaos that made their lives more interesting. The more dramatic the fall, the louder the applause.
But attention is not transformation. It’s a distorted mirror. It reflects something familiar enough to keep you hooked, while the real you slowly disappears behind the image.
Enter the Sacred Pivot: The Audience That Keeps You From Falling Again
Change didn’t come as a lightning bolt. It came as a reckoning.
Life forced me into a place where I could no longer perform for a volatile crowd. I had to choose a different audience one that didn’t require me to self-destruct for approval. One that could sit with me in silence and still see value. One that didn’t need spectacle to stay.
The shift wasn’t instant. It happened slowly, painfully, and honestly. It began when I stopped asking the wrong people for feedback and started listening inward to that quiet voice that had always known what was right, even when it was inconvenient, even when it hurt.
That voice isn’t about perfection. It’s about alignment. Consistency. Integrity. It asks who you are when no one is watching and whether that version matches the one you show the world. It’s the voice that reminds you that your walk will always speak louder than your words.
I learned that the right audience doesn’t clap for your collapse. They don’t encourage shortcuts that sabotage your future. They don’t confuse loyalty with silence. They care about who you’re becoming, not how entertaining your pain is.
For me, the audience shifted toward something sacred: God and the people who reflect His truth back to me in real, tangible ways. The family who never gave up. The mentors who tell the truth even when it stings. The few friends who value growth over gossip. And most importantly, my two children who deserve a mother who is present, alive, healing, and honest.
The Power of a Single-Follower Audience
I once believed power came from being seen by many. That worth required numbers. That if enough people watched me, I would finally matter.
This season has taught me something radically different: you don’t need a crowd to live a meaningful life. You need alignment. One faithful witness is more powerful than a thousand spectators.
When your audience becomes God, your moral compass becomes non-negotiable. You stop negotiating your values for validation. You begin guarding what you feed your heart. You stop consuming negativity as entertainment. You stop chasing compliments that evaporate the moment you need them most.
There is clarity in realizing you don’t need the world’s permission to heal. If I can live honestly here, now, without applause then maybe my story can reach one woman who needs to hear she’s not alone. And if it reaches only one, that is enough.
Importance of audience in personal growth
What Does a Rewritten Script Look Like?
Rewriting your life script doesn’t mean erasing the past. It means choosing who gets a voice in your future.
1. The Audience You Choose
Choose an audience that values accountability over flattery. People who want your growth, not your downfall. Your future self. Your children. Your faith. Those who love you enough to say the hard things with compassion.
Distance yourself from anyone who celebrates your lowest moments or weaponizes your pain for entertainment. Not everyone deserves front-row access to your life.
2. The Content You Create
Whether online or offline, ask yourself: Would I be proud of this version of me five years from now?
Don’t share what exploits your wounds. Share what honors your healing. Your voice is powerful use it to uplift, educate, and empower. Be honest about your struggles, but even more honest about the steps you’re taking to change.
3. The Way You Move Through the World
Let your actions speak louder than your declarations. If you say you’re changing, live like change is mandatory.
Show up to appointments. Keep your promises. Protect your health. Honor your responsibilities. Build routines that support restoration: prayer, therapy, mentorship, support groups, structure, and rest.
Growth is not glamorous. It’s repetitive, disciplined, and often unseen.
4. Your Relationship With the Past
Acknowledge it without letting it own you. Your past is a chapter not your title.
Learn where you must. Forgive where you can. But move forward with wisdom and boundaries that prevent old patterns from returning. Healing requires both compassion and strategy.
5. Faith and Hope as Practice
Faith isn’t passive. It’s active courage applied daily.
Hope isn’t denial it’s discipline. It’s choosing to believe in your capacity to change even when the old version of you tries to pull you back with familiar chains.
A Message for Young Women: Don’t Let Your Audience Write You Out of Your Own Story
To the young women reading this: I know the pull of attention. I know what it feels like to mistake noise for worth and chaos for excitement. I’ve lived it.
Hear me clearly: you are more than the screen you’re living on. More than the drama you inherited. More than the mistakes you’ve made. Your life is not content for someone else’s consumption.
Guard your heart like the treasure it is. Be intentional about what you feed your mind what you watch, who you listen to, who you allow close. Build a small, honest circle of truth-tellers who push you toward healing, not hype.
And if you stumble because you will know this: stumbling is not failure. It’s information. It’s an invitation to pause, recalibrate, and rise wiser.
Ask yourself daily: Who is my audience today?
Are they cheering for my wholeness or my downfall?
A Call to Action
- Reflect honestly: List your top five influences. Do they bring peace or pressure?
- Recalibrate your inputs: Unfollow what feeds fear, comparison, or shame. Follow what feeds growth.
- Create accountability: Choose someone who checks your progress, not just your excuses.
- Build a daily grounding practice: Prayer, journaling, or silence before the noise begins.
- Write your personal mission statement: Who you are becoming, who you serve, and the life you are choosing.
Your life is a story still being written. Choose your audience wisely because who you perform for will shape who you become.
Read More: When Therapy Isn’t There at 2 A.M.: What Really Keeps a Man Standing
