Begin by naming the hardest true sentence you avoid, plainly and without alibi. Then share it in a context that can hold you to it—trusted friend, mentor, or a written pact—so denial has fewer hiding places. Next, design one narrow practice that contradicts the old lie: a weekly apology paid down with deeds, a budget that refuses fantasy, a boundary stated once and kept. Track evidence, not feelings, because stone yields slowly; the new outline appears chip by chip. When the truth feels heavy again, return to the block, not to self-loathing: subtract what is not you, repeat what aligns, rest when dust blinds you. Freedom, in this view, is not walking away from the stone but walking with it until it bears your shape. Thus the maxim holds: face the hard truth, and let its resistance teach your hands what to make. [...]
