Accountability isn’t just saying you did something wrong.
It’s sitting in it.
Without distraction. Without a PR team. Without a punchline.
And trust me—sitting in it is brutal.
Because there’s no applause for accountability.
No comfort.
It strips everything away:
The denial. The excuses. Even the version of yourself you were trying to save.
I remember the first time I heard the words “sex offender” spoken aloud in court.
It was mine to carry now.
Not just the label—but the impact. The harm. The responsibility.
And in that moment, the narrative stopped being about damage control—
It became about truth.
Not the media version. Not the viral meme.
But the truth I was scared to face.
I had hurt someone.
I crossed lines.
I sent things that should never have been sent.
I acted from pain, but that pain doesn’t cancel the impact.
Accountability meant naming that.
Out loud. In court. In therapy. To myself.
And it didn’t feel like closure.
It felt like collapse.
But that collapse is where alchemy begins.
Because when you stop defending yourself—when you strip it all back—
you begin to see the shape of what you need to become.
Not to fix your image.
To fix your inner compass.
That’s the difference.
I didn’t get a redemption arc.
I got supervision reports, community payback hours, and sleepless nights.
And still—I showed up.
Because that’s what accountability is.
It’s not saying “I’m sorry” and hoping it fades.
It’s asking: What now?
What do I do with what I’ve broken?
You sit in it.
You carry it.
And you change—not to look better,
but to be better.
This is not a brand strategy.
This is not about press angles.
This is about turning guilt into fuel.
That’s alchemy.
That’s the work.
And I’m still in it.