Opening the Castle gates

I've been building this beautiful castle for months. Gardens with trimmed lawns and fruit trees, painting galleries, museums filled with my art. WhatsHappening has breathwork modules, writes letters every Sunday, even creates songs based on what happened in your week. It's alive, it's working, Me & Han are using it and finding real value.

But I haven't shared it publicly. No paywall. No social media posts. Nothing.

Yesterday night after smoking up with my siblings, a manager part showed up. "We have to share this! We're being selfish. Art isn't meant to be hoarded." And he was right. But why was I so afraid?

Meet the Head of Security

In today's therapy session, I found him. A young child dressed in a security guard uniform, standing at the gates of my castle. He's been there all along, keeping everyone out.

This part doesn't fit in any box. He's young but battle-hardened. Wise beyond his years but still carries childhood innocence. He's seen things - the pain when bad actors show up, when people criticize vulnerably shared work, when the internet's anonymity brings out the worst in people.

His solution? Keep the castle closed. Build and build and build inside, but never open the gates. Safe things don't invite criticism.

And honestly, I get it. Growing up, everything felt like competition. I didn't trust people. The world taught me that when you share something beautiful, there will be jealousy, judgment, the dreaded "meh" response that cuts deeper than outright hate.

The fear behind the gates

This part was afraid of being seen. Not just the work being seen - him being seen. Because he doesn't fit anywhere. He's not just a child, not just an adult. He's this unique blend that defies categorization.

When you're that extraordinary, visibility is terrifying. Because humans love to box things, categorize quickly, make sense fast. But some parts defy that. And this security guard knew - if people see me, they won't understand. They'll try to fit me in boxes I don't belong in.

So he became invisible. Did all the work - kept the castle safe, made all the decisions about what to share and what not to - but never claimed credit. Never said "look what I built." Never owned it.

The entire security plan was in response to how the external world treated him. A small child carrying the weight of protecting everything I create, everyone I am.

The castle stays closed

For months, everyone in AbhinavLand was doing their job. The artist was painting in the gallery. The gardener was tending to fruit trees. The ambitious part was planning new exhibits. Everyone having fun in their own way.

But the gates? Locked tight.

"Why aren't we opening?" the other parts started asking. "This castle is beautiful. People would love to visit. Why are we keeping it to ourselves?"

That's when the security guard stepped forward. "You have no idea what I've seen. You have no idea how hard this job is. I'm protecting you from bad actors. From criticism. From people who will tear this down."

The conversation that changed everything

When all the parts gathered to talk with the security guard, something beautiful happened. Instead of dismissing his fears or minimizing his experience, they truly listened.

"Thank you for protecting us. We see how hard you've worked. We appreciate the beautiful shield you've created. But..."

The gentle truth: "Not everyone is a bad actor. Maybe 5-10% are. But the other 90-95%? They need what we've built. They'll benefit from visiting this castle. And we're being selfish by keeping it closed."

The security guard's face - complex, conflicted. He'd been doing this job so long, working so hard to keep everyone safe.

"I hear you," the other parts continued. "And we need your help with that 5%. When bad actors show up - and they will - we need you to be our bouncer. Throw them out. Protect us. But please, don't stop us from sharing with the 90% who want to be here."

What the castle represents

This castle isn't just WhatsHappening. It's everything.

My insights about life and parenthood. My now page updates. My voice notes about what's happening inside me. My thoughts on consciousness and healing. My journey with IFS. The house I want to build. Every piece of art I create. Every vulnerable thing I want to share.

For so long, I've been building in private. Creating in my bubble. Having fun, yes. But also being selfish.

Because art isn't meant to be hoarded. It's meant to be shared.

Opening the gates

I now understand my mom better - she had a similar security guard. Do safe things. Don't invite criticism. Keep people at arm's length.

But that's not living. That's surviving.

The castle is opening. There will be entry tickets (yes, I'll add that paywall). There will be an option to subsidy if you cannot afford.

When bad actors show up with their criticism and negativity, my head of security will handle it. He'll bounce them out.

But the 90% who can benefit? Who need this space? Who will have their picnics under these trees and find healing in these galleries? They're welcome.

This is my gift to the universe. My humanness. My art.

And I'm finally ready to share it.

To my head of security

Thank you for everything you've done. For every night you stayed up worried. For every time you said "not yet" to protect me. For building such strong walls when I needed them.

Because this castle you've been protecting so fiercely? It deserves to be seen. And you deserve to be acknowledged for the incredible work you've done.

The gates are opening. And I can't wait to see what happens next.