I remember sitting on a wooden pew, my feet not quite touching the ground, while adults around me nodded in agreement to every stern sermon.

There was always a sense that questioning was off-limits, and I felt I had no choice but to follow the rules laid out in front of me. Every Sunday, it seemed like my life was defined by dos and don’ts that I’d never signed up for.

But as I grew up, I started to wonder what might happen if I allowed myself a bit more freedom. Could I explore beliefs outside of what I’d been taught without losing myself in the process?

Eventually, I realized that unlearning old rules wasn’t just an act of rebellion; it was a journey toward authenticity.

I’m sharing this because so many of us inherit a framework for living that doesn’t quite fit. Through my own exploration, I’ve discovered that stepping beyond those boundaries can be both empowering and terrifying. 

Yet there is genuine relief in choosing our own truth, even when it means leaving behind traditions that once felt unshakable.

Early questions

I was always the little girl who asked “Why?” at every turn. My parents tried their best to answer me, but their responses often circled back to duty, obedience, and fear of stepping out of line.

Over time, I stopped voicing my questions out loud, sensing they might be unwelcome.

But that curiosity never really disappeared. When I reached my late teens, I saw people living differently—laughing without shame, exploring new paths, taking responsibility for their actions without constant guilt. I wanted that sense of freedom, but I had no roadmap for it.

I was taught that marriage was a given and motherhood was the pinnacle of womanhood. Choosing not to have children felt like betraying a holy script.

Still, every time I imagined a life where I followed the script just to please others, it felt hollow.

Stepping outside that mold was my first true taste of autonomy.

Looking back, I realize the quiet tension between my inner voice and the rules around me was the spark that eventually led me to ask bigger questions.

What did I actually believe about a higher power or the nature of good and bad?

Did I truly accept that my worth hinged on fulfilling a specific role as a wife and mother?

Letting those questions breathe was my first step toward a more intentional life. I began to see that answers wouldn’t come solely from scriptures or outside authorities. They would come from self-reflection and honest conversations with people who had walked this path before me.

Shedding old beliefs

When I finally admitted that not all the rules I grew up with felt right, a mixture of relief and terror swept over me. The hardest part was facing the guilt that lingered, as if I were betraying my family and community by thinking differently.

This phase of shedding felt like peeling layers off an onion. A rule about what I could wear or say would surface, and I’d have to decide whether to keep it or let it go.

Some beliefs turned out to be useful, like treating others with kindness or practicing gratitude. Those have stayed with me, even if my religious perspectives shifted.

The rest fell away once I saw them in a brighter light. For instance, I used to believe that suffering in silence was virtuous. Now, I see honest communication as a healthier way to navigate relationships.

That shift saved my marriage more than once, because my husband and I learned the difference between silent resentment and open dialogue.

I also realized that certain cultural practices, like daily prayer, can be transformed into mindful moments that serve my well-being instead of rigid duties. 

Today, I still sit quietly each morning, but I focus on my breath and a sense of calm instead of reciting memorized lines. It’s a subtle change that has brought me genuine peace rather than enforced calmness.

Every time I recognized a belief that no longer served me, I treated it with curiosity rather than shame. This approach lifted a weight off my shoulders.

I saw that discarding outdated ideas isn’t a rejection of my roots—it’s an evolution that respects where I came from while honoring who I’m becoming.

Creating a personal path

There’s one more piece of my story that made a difference: learning how to rebuild after a phase of unlearning. I spent so much time identifying the beliefs I didn’t want, but I also needed to figure out what I stood for.

That’s where Rudá Iandê’s Free Your Mind masterclass came into play. I discovered it when I was deep in the process of questioning everything about my upbringing, including long-held ideas of sin and worthiness.

The course offered me a framework to gently explore my own mind, identifying which inherited beliefs were holding me back from living in alignment with my true self.

I won’t go into detail about the exercises, but I will say this: they pushed me to see how deeply fear and guilt had shaped my behaviors. I realized I’d been tiptoeing around certain topics in my marriage, worried my questions might offend or disrupt the peace.

When the course inspired me to speak openly and let go of the worry about being judged, I felt a surge of relief that words can’t fully capture.

Freeing my mind from old stories allowed me to build a new relationship with myself—one based on acceptance rather than constant scrutiny. I used to think self-love was vain or selfish, but the masterclass helped me understand it’s a form of radical honesty. 

The more I honor who I truly am, the more energy I have to show up with kindness and intention in my marriage, friendships, and creative work.

Practicing this kind of radical self-love reminds me that I’m not a blank slate. I come with memories, habits, and values from my upbringing, but I also have the right to choose which parts serve me and which ones I need to let go.

If you’ve been wrestling with similar doubts, consider exploring a resource like Rudá Iandê’s masterclass. It might give you a safe space to question old narratives and step into a life that’s truly yours.

Final thoughts

Walking away from strict rules wasn’t just a one-time event for me; it’s a practice of continually asking if my actions match my values. This kind of self-reflection requires courage, especially when it means disappointing people who prefer we stay the same.

I hope my journey encourages you to examine the rules you’ve inherited and decide which ones belong in your life. Sometimes, you’ll keep them. Other times, you’ll realize you’ve outgrown them, and that’s okay.

Growth rarely comes without resistance, but it does bring a sense of freedom that makes the struggle worthwhile. My hope is that you discover what’s true for you and give yourself permission to live by it.

Wherever you are on your path, remember that stepping into your own truth doesn’t have to mean shattering everything you once believed. You can hold on to what resonates and release what doesn’t.

That is the beauty of choice—an option we all deserve to exercise.