Rules were always meant to be followed- or at least that’s what we’re told growing up. Play nice. Be polite. Stay in line. For so long, I believed those rules would protect me, that they’d somehow guide me into a life that felt safe, loved, and worthy. But eventually, I learned a harsher truth: following all the rules doesn’t guarantee you won’t get your heart broken. In fact, sometimes it’s the tight grip of those rules that suffocates your joy, your boldness, and even your capacity to feel alive.
So, I stopped being so obedient.
It wasn’t an overnight rebellion. No wild tantrum, no dramatic “forget the world” moment. It started quietly. A small “no” when I was expected to say “yes.” A deliberate choice to prioritize my own rhythm instead of the expectations being thrown at me. The more I tested those boundaries, the more I realized- breaking rules can be an act of self-preservation, a reclamation of identity. And oddly enough, it’s not always as reckless as it sounds. Sometimes it’s the most honest thing you can do.
Of course, breaking rules doesn’t come without consequences. People don’t like it when you shift the narrative, especially if your role in their life was dependent on you being agreeable, quiet, or predictable. It’s unsettling for them to see you redraw the lines. And I’ll be honest- sometimes it hurts to see the way people react when you stop being the version of yourself they preferred. It can feel like you’re breaking their hearts, even when all you’re doing is mending your own.
But this is where things get messy- in the best way possible.
You begin to realize that life isn’t about avoiding heartbreak. It’s about understanding which hearts you’re responsible for, and which ones were never truly yours to carry in the first place. When you start choosing yourself, you might lose people. People who preferred you in pieces. People who only loved you within the rules that kept you small. But in return, you find a different kind of love-one that doesn’t demand you shrink, one that respects your “no” as much as your “yes.”
I used to think rebellion was loud. I thought it had to be aggressive, defiant in a way that made people notice. But now, I see that the most powerful acts of rebellion are often subtle. They are quite refusals to compromise on your truth. They are soft but unwavering decisions to stay in alignment with your own desires, even when the world tries to convince you otherwise.
For me, rebellion looked like reclaiming my sensuality. It meant letting go of the guilt and shame attached to being a woman who feels deeply, who loves boldly, who expresses her body as art, not as an apology. I began to flirt with life again. Not in a superficial way, but in a way that invited playfulness, curiosity, and intimacy back into my days. I allowed myself to be seen, to take up space, to live in a rhythm that felt deliciously mine.
And yes, it terrified some people. It even terrified me.
But that’s the thing about breaking rules. It forces you to confront your own fears. Not just the fear of disappointing others, but the fear of stepping into your own power. Because once you taste that freedom, there’s no going back to being the good girl who followed all the rules and still got hurt. You begin to understand that protecting your heart isn’t about building walls- it’s about choosing which risks are worth taking, and which rules are worth rewriting.
I think we’re often taught to pursue a life of minimal damage. Don’t offend, don’t disrupt, don’t cause waves. But what if the waves are where we truly find ourselves? What if the heartbreaks we experience along the way are not failures, but necessary ruptures that carve out space for something real, something unfiltered?
I’ve broken hearts, I won’t lie. But I’ve also broken rules that kept me away from people who could love me in the way I deserved. I’ve said things that others found too bold, too much, too raw. And for a long time, I agonized over the idea that maybe I was the problem. Maybe if I toned myself down, if I followed the unspoken rules of how to be “likable,” I wouldn’t have to deal with the ache of being misunderstood.
But now, I see it differently. The hearts I’ve broken were never collateral damage. They were invitations for others to confront their own limitations- their discomfort with a woman who refuses to play small. Breaking those rules wasn’t about rebellion for the sake of it. It was about living a life that feels honest, even if it means unsettling the people who preferred me to be predictable.
The truth is, some hearts will break because they were never built to hold you in your entirety. And that’s not your fault.
On the flip side, breaking rules has also led me to the most authentic connections. The kind of love that isn’t intimidated by my intensity. The kind of friendships that celebrate my contradictions. The kind of creative work that feels alive, not manufactured for approval. Every time I choose to break a rule- whether it was in how I express myself, how I love, or how I live- I wasn’t just risking rejection. I was opening doors to deeper, more meaningful experiences.
Maybe that’s the paradox of this whole journey. In trying to avoid heartbreak, we often end up betraying ourselves. But when we accept that a little heartbreak is inevitable, we free ourselves to live with more depth, more courage, and more connection.
So yes, I’m breaking rules. And yes, sometimes hearts will break along the way- mine included. But I’m learning to be ok with that. Because at the end of the day, I’d rather live a life where my heart breaks from loving too deeply, from daring too boldly, than from silencing myself into a version that feels numb, distant, or polite.
Breaking rules isn’t about being reckless. It’s about being real.
It’s about understanding that sometimes, the rules were never designed with you in mind. Sometimes, they were crafted to keep you docile, contained, manageable. And when you being to peel those layers off, when you give yourself permission to color outside the lines, you don’t just find freedom. You find yourself.
So to the ones who feel the urge to soften their edges just to fit in: don’t.
To the ones who are afraid their boldness will push people away: maybe it will, but the right ones will stay.
And to anyone who’s ever felt torn between following the rules and following their heart: choose the path that feels like home, even if it’s unpaved, even if it scares you.
Because breaking rules isn’t just about defying authority. It’s about creating a life that feels like yours.
Even if it means breaking a few hearts along the way.
Lanalefay 