Why Disney Still Holds Me

The Question I Get Asked (and the One I Had to Answer for Myself)

“Why Disney?”

It’s a fair question—especially after everything changed.
After I lost my job.
After the routine, identity, and certainty I’d wrapped myself in disappeared overnight.

What people don’t realize is that Disney didn’t become important after I left.

It mattered because I was already learning how to leave.

It Wasn’t Just a Job—It Was a System

For years, the place I worked gave me structure.
Rules.
Clear expectations.
A definition of what “good” looked like.

It also taught me things quietly:

• Don’t question too much.

• Don’t slow down.

• Don’t need too much.

• Don’t make it harder by having feelings.

I learned how to be useful.
I learned how to be dependable.
I learned how to survive inside a system that rewarded endurance more than health.

Nothing exploded.
There was no dramatic breaking point.
Just a slow erosion of self that looked like “normal.”

That’s how cycles keep going.

Disney Was Teaching Me Something Else the Whole Time

While that system taught me how to stay, Disney stories were whispering something different.

Not rebellion.
Recognition.

The moment a character realizes:

This isn’t who I am anymore.

Elsa stepping away before she hurts everyone.
Moana leaving without permission.
Mirabel holding a family together while being told she’s the problem.
Stitch learning that belonging doesn’t require self-erasure.

I didn’t call it cycle-breaking then.

I just knew those stories felt like relief.

Leaving Wasn’t Brave—It Was Necessary

When I was fired, the grief wasn’t just about income.

It was about losing:

• Structure

• Identity

• Safety

• The version of myself that believed if I stayed long enough, it would get better

That belief didn’t start at that job.
It was familiar. Inherited. Learned early.

Leaving wasn’t a dramatic stand.

It was the quiet realization that staying was costing me more than it was giving.

And once I was out, I didn’t feel free.

I felt untethered.

Dreamlight Valley: Where I Practiced Rebuilding Without Punishment

After leaving, I didn’t need motivation.
I needed gentleness.

That’s where Disney Dreamlight Valley came in—not as escape, but as a safe place to land.

In that world:

• Nothing yells at you for moving slowly.

• Progress doesn’t erase rest.

• Broken places aren’t blamed for being broken.

• Restoration happens one small act at a time.

You don’t fix everything.
You tend what you can.
You clean up abandoned spaces quietly.
You rebuild without being timed.

It mirrored exactly what I was learning in real life:
I didn’t need to replace the system I left.

I needed to unlearn it.

Cycle-Breaking Is Quiet Work

Cycle-breaking doesn’t look like victory.

It looks like:

• Choosing rest when productivity feels safer

• Letting things be unfinished

• Not rushing to prove you’re “okay”

• Teaching your kids that worth isn’t tied to output

Dreamlight Valley reinforced something I was never taught:
You are allowed to rebuild at the speed of trust.

That’s what I was doing.
That’s what I’m still doing.

Why Disney Lives at the Center of Boundaries & Burnout

Disney isn’t nostalgia for me.

It’s a framework.

It’s how I understand:

• Leaving without becoming bitter

• Healing without performing

• Building something new without recreating the old harm

Boundaries & Burnout exists because I left a system that thrived on endurance.
It exists because I chose to stop surviving quietly.
It exists because I’m breaking cycles I don’t want my kids to inherit.

Disney just gave me the language first.

If You’re Standing at the Edge of Your Own Leaving

If you’re still inside something that looks stable but feels wrong…
If you’re grieving a version of yourself that stayed too long…
If gentle things are the only things that feel possible right now…

You’re not weak.
You’re not behind.
You’re not failing.

You’re in the middle of a story Disney understands very well.

The part where the world doesn’t end—
but it does change.

And you’re allowed to change with it. ✨

What system taught you to stay quiet, useful, or small—and what would rebuilding look like if you didn’t punish yourself for leaving?

Want to sit with this a little longer?

I created a reflection page for people who are living inside hard seasons — not trying to escape them.

You don’t need to leave.
You don’t need a plan.
You don’t need to fix anything.

You can download it here:

👉 Staying Human in Hard Seasons (PDF)

Boundaries & Burnout was built for the quiet, unseen stories so many of us carry.
If this one spoke to you, sharing it helps it reach others who may feel less alone.

Choose the door that feels right.
There’s no correct order.