Fire the Dog, Kill the Program

Metaphorical Narrative

There’s a dog that steals your dinner.
Sometimes, it even dresses like a bunny to win your trust.
It doesn’t just steal food — it watches you eat, judges how clean your plate is, and demands virtue in return.
And you’ve been feeding it for years.

There’s also a plate — not yours — given to you by others.
It comes with rules:
“Wipe it clean.”
“Don’t enjoy too much.”
“Sacrifice earns approval.”
“Show me your progress.”

And so, you obeyed. You ate for virtue. You starved for praise.
But one day, something shifted:
You stopped performing.
You left the plate.
You fired the dog.

Core Insight

Self-denial dressed as goodness is still self-denial.
The Judger in your head, the guilt around rest, the chronic “I haven’t done enough” — all of it is part of the same program.

It says:

• “Fun must be earned.”
• “Progress is proof of worth.”
• “Be good for others, not free for yourself.”

But here’s the truth:
Playing the Judger is an anti-Grace act.
Grace doesn’t require sacrifice.
Grace doesn’t need a clean plate.
Grace simply lets you eat. In peace.

Saturday Experiment

• Notice when the inner voice says, “You’ve had too much fun, now pay up.”
• Instead of reacting, smile. Whisper: “I don’t feed that dog anymore.”
• Let yourself do something enjoyable without explaining it, justifying it, or earning it.

Sunday Reflection

“Imagine a life where they no longer fed the Judger — not even a crumb. No bargaining, no explaining, no trying to earn rest, joy, or worth. What began to grow in that space? What did their days feel like when fun was allowed without permission? When progress didn’t need to be proven? Describe the kind of world they built when the Judger was no longer in charge — and who they became inside it.”