12 – 26/06/26
My fear of punishment has largely been shaped by religion.
Even before prayer became obligatory for me, I rarely missed the dawn prayer.
I feared that if I missed it, God would abandon me for the rest of the day.
I believed I needed divine protection.
I still do.
To this day, it remains difficult for me to miss a prayer.
I suspect it always will be.
Over time, I realized that the fear of punishment extends far beyond religion.
It exists wherever belonging can be withdrawn.
If you become truly unpunishable, you become a threat to the system you belong to.
Not relying on a system—whether a family or a workplace—is often perceived as an act of betrayal.
People may resent you for leaving, even if they were unhappy with you while you stayed.
If you return worse off than when you left, they often welcome you back.
Returning is interpreted as admitting defeat.
As proof that you could not survive without their authority.
When a superior can no longer offer you something tangible, like money, or intangible, like approval, they may instead sacrifice something of themselves—their time, their sacrifices, or the life they never lived—and offer it to you as emotional currency in exchange for your compliance.
Being well resourced is essential for navigating systems that expect compliance before they have earned your trust.
When I was being punished for expressing my desires and my dissatisfaction at work, my network saved me.
You need both your network and your net worth.
When your net worth is threatened, your network can save you.
When your network fails you, your net worth can protect you.
You need both if you want to exercise greater freedom.
So what now?
I’m expanding both my network and my net worth.
Not because I want power over anyone else.
Because I want fewer people to have the power to punish me for living according to my convictions.
The goal is not superiority.
Nor is it isolation.
The goal is dignity.
To remain because I choose to remain.
To leave because I choose to leave.
To make mistakes without fearing abandonment.
To accept the consequences of my decisions and bear them well.
Perhaps becoming unpunishable isn’t about escaping every system.
Perhaps it’s about becoming so well resourced—in faith, in friendships, in finances, and in character—that dignity, rather than fear, governs my choices.