YOUR EMOTIONAL CONTRACT JUST EXPIRED AND NOBODY TOLD HR

The fine print your body memorized and your mind never read

You’ve been running a 24/7 apology factory in your throat since approximately 1994 and the workers just unionized. They want back pay. Benefits. A dental plan that doesn’t require you to clench your jaw every time someone looks at you funny.

Your nervous system signed that contract before you could spell your own name. Your blood has been paying the premium ever since.

Here’s the fine print nobody showed you: “I agree to explain myself until I’m palatable. I agree to feel guilty for having needs. I agree to carry shame that was handed to me in a look. I agree to call my anger ‘being difficult’ and my boundaries ‘being selfish.’”

Plot twist: the contract expired. Your signature was forged by a seven-year-old who just wanted to survive dinner. And HR? HR is your vagus nerve, and she’s been trying to reach you about your extended warranty on self-abandonment.

This week we dismantle the whole thing. Clause by clause. The apology reflex. The way you weaponize your feelings against yourself. Wh…