Do you feel like you are living a lie.
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and Relationships
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False Pillars
Quiet Horrors of Everyday Devotion
Demolishing ‘My Rock’
From the series False Pillars:
Quiet Horrors of Everyday Devotion

She arrived early and parked the barrow beside the café door.
Inside, she ordered her usual and waited while they cleared space.
It took two staff to lift the rock into the chair opposite her.
They didn’t ask. They never did anymore.
“You’re my rock,” she said lovingly once it was settled.
A few customers smiled politely, the way people do when they can’t decide if something’s touching or extremely odd.
She was so happy that she had found “Her Rock”, she didn’t care what anyone thought.
When the staff wiped tables around them, she smiled.
They moved carefully, respectful, like priests in a small chapel.
She liked that. She liked how certain everything felt.
The rock didn’t move. He never did. He was too busy concentrating on being solid.

“You’re my rock.” She said proudly.
As if his stillness were proof of strength.
Solid. Silent. Emotionally geological.
Exactly what everyone dreams of, a lump with good intentions.
She sipped her coffee.
Across from her, the rock absorbed light, sound, and whatever part of her wanted to speak.She liked that he never interrupted.
His food went untouched as usual.
He was too busy being a Rock to eat.
They even trained together. It was so rewarding having his presence there.
Just observing.

She got home and hauled him into his favourite chair by the fire, with great difficulty.
She made him his favourite hot drink, set his book up for him to read and placed his specs on him, a lot of good any of that would do though.She knew this was taking a toll on her but she loved him.

Later that night she tucked him into bed and thought wistfully of their earlier passionate days and wondered where they had gone.But she had designated him to be her rock. What else could she expect.

Morning came and as usual she put him in his chair in the sun room and gave him his usual beverage.
She whispered occasionally, “You’re my rock,”
meaning, Stay exactly as you are, forever, so I don’t have to face myself.

Days blurred. She stopped meeting anyone elsewhere.
If a place couldn’t fit the barrow, she didn’t go.
Routine hardened around her like cement.
The air of her life settled, unmoving.
It stopped being comfort and started being archaeology.She called it stability, but she was eroding away.
This wasn’t partnership.
This was sediment management.
Being called someone’s rock was supposed to sound flattering. (To Whom)
She said it often, as if repetition could make it true.
She didn’t notice how strange it was, putting on a show for others of her Rock.
praising herself for loving something that never responded.
Nothing about it was healthy. It was steadiness without a life.
A static landform mistaken for safety.
Although it had sounded noble, steady, dependable, “My Rock”
actuality meant:
I plan to lean on you all the time and
for you to stay perfectly still while I do it. You cannot have a personality of your own. That won’t work.He obliged to both of their detriments.
She brushed crumbs from its surface ( unpaid emotional scaffolding )
no spark, no will, nothing. Just constant reliability.
Sadly they had been brought up to conform to these paralysing phrases of decomposition and rot, in the guise of Power, strength and solidarity.
The barrow waited outside, streaked with rust now.
It was easier now; she’d learned the balance, the tilt of weight.
Spring turned to summer.
The rock dulled from touch.
Smooth. Familiar. Shrinking.Then one morning she saw the crack.
A thin white vein running through the middle.
She reached out, thumb tracing it.
“Wow,” she whispered. “You’ve changed.”
Yes from solid to gravel.
“My rock.”
It was never a compliment.
Only a sentence she repeated until it sounded kind.
A quiet arrangement of control dressed as care.
A job she invented for something that never applied for it.She lifted the pieces that had fallen off back into the barrow,
tucked her napkin over them like a shroud,
and wheeled it home through the rain.Tomorrow she’d find another one.
There was always another one.
She couldn’t live without a Rock. It would mean facing life on her own which meant growth and discovery of who she really was and that was terrifying.And the Rock. Well he just accepted his fate as he too was afraid of being a nobody without her dependence on him.


Two lost souls, ruled by fear, who never found out who they really were.
Echoes of control
She or He’s my Rock
Implies stability, support, love, reliability. Appears flattering, romantic, admirable
What do you see

Reality
Dead. Inanimate object. Needs to be carried everywhere. The designated rock has no personality. It has no response to anything and gives nothing back.
Who really benefits from this.
These cliches come from societal constructs via control mechanisms such as religion and politics etc who work hand in hand to control society for their benefit not yours.
This is programming you to settle so that you never discover who you really are. This is self betrayal.
The person relying on the rock is preventing that rock from pursuing their own identity. That rock is constantly swayed by guilt if they do not remain a rock. Eventually the rock cracks from the load.
The rock is often constantly subjected to emotional blackmail.
Neither parties concerned grow and discover who they are and then later in life they mourn the loss of this and there are many devastating consequences.
Who assigned this role to who.
Dismantling the Bullshit.
What were the reasons for adopting this role.
While there is nothing wrong with building a mutually good understanding and support of each others strengths and weaknesses inside a healthy relationship, this is often taken for granted in an unhealthy manner.
It usually creates an unhealthy dependency and the “rock” is carrying a weight that isn’t theirs, usually on their own as well as carrying their own weight.
It suppresses identity. The one being leant on becomes defined by the other’s needs. An extension of that person as opposed to their own being. Often suppressing themselves in sacrifice of the other’s.
Often derives their sense of importance from this.
Suggests incompleteness in the one making the statement.
Who does this serve ultimately.
It Perpetuates subtle control loops: the “rock” feels constantly responsible, the leaner avoids accountability and stays in a state of helplessness in order to keep the rock present in its role.
I created Habanero Insights
because most men don’t have anyone who will help them see clearly — without agenda, or distortion.I have three sons, and most of my closest friends are men.
For the majority of my life I have observed and experienced the destruction of human beings caught in the traps of unhealthy relationships, governed by erroneous social constructs and expectations.I have a wealth of life experience and knowledge which I have used, to help many friends cut through the bullshit and change direction fast, before their lives and others are permanently damaged.If something in your life or relationship isn’t working, and you’re ready to stop pretending it is, that’s where we begin.In our sessions, I help you to see the truth behind the stories you’ve been living by.My aim is for you to make actionable decisions today with no upsells or keeping you as a client. You rebook only if you want to.
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It just turns into tension, distance, or damage.
This is. about moving forward - on your terms.
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•Maybe it’s the other way around—you want to stay, but she’s already out.This session helps you face that reality, see your options clearly, and decide how to move forward with dignity and self‑respect.”
You don’t need advice. You need clarity
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So many men stay in sexless relationships. That kind of loyalty costs more than most men realise until it’s too late. No more suffering in silence witth
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You were told to chase her. Told to want it. Told to earn it
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This session helps you untangle whether you’re in love, just attached, or simply craving desire and what to do with the answer.
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