The Cutting Away: How God Removed Everyone Who Couldn’t Go Into My Future
🎧 Prefer to listen? Hear the spoken-word version above.
Editor’s Note: This journal entry is part of my real-time awakening journey — a record of what God has been healing, severing and rebuilding in me. It’s not written to expose, accuse or revisit old wounds, but to testify to the freedom that comes when God removes what cannot go with you into your calling. For anyone walking through a similar pruning, I pray you find clarity, courage and peace in these words.
There are moments in life where grief doesn’t feel like grief anymore.
Where the ache finally dissolves, the attachment breaks, and the soul stops reaching for the people who were never meant to walk with you into your calling.
I woke up this morning with a memory of my brother.
Not a memory that hurt.
A memory that clarified.
I remembered the day he fell backwards off a lift platform.
A trained abseiler.
A man who should have known exactly where the edges were.
A man who lived his entire adult life calculating danger.
And yet he stepped backwards into thin air.
Looking back now, that fall was the moment the truth cracked open.
It was the first visible sign that something inside him was unravelling long before anyone else noticed.
He was already drowning.
Drowning in drink.
Drowning in drugs.
Drowning in exhaustion and late nights and fake food and emotional avoidance.
Drowning in an atmosphere where dysfunction wasn’t an accident. It was a lifestyle.
And I could never have saved him.
Not when the environment he lived in was stronger than my influence.
Not when I would always be speaking life into a room that was committed to death.
Not when the people around him enabled the very darkness he was trying to escape.
He had the same freedom to make choices that I did.
And he chose to stay in the very atmosphere that was killing him.
You cannot rescue someone who loves the water that is drowning them.
And then came the childhood trauma he had buried for nearly fifty years.
The moment he finally spoke it out loud was the moment the scaffolding of his soul collapsed.
Everything he had held back came rushing through the cracks.
He started watching paedophile-hunter videos obsessively.
Not out of entertainment.
Out of identification.
Out of trauma looping in real time.
Out of a mind trying to make sense of something too heavy to carry.
By the time he revealed the truth, he no longer had the emotional strength to survive it.
And this morning, when that memory surfaced, I felt something I did not expect.
No pain.
No longing.
No grief.
Just peace.
A clean, deep, supernatural peace that only comes when the healing is truly finished.
Because here is the truth:
I have walked through a level of loss that most people will never comprehend.
No father.
No mother.
No brother.
No brothers.
No family structure left.
No connection to the old bloodline.
No safety net.
No familiar faces walking with me into the future.
I lost my brother.
Then I lost my other brother through rejection and slander.
Then I lost friends who folded at the first sign of spiritual resistance.
Then I lost the people who drained me, misunderstood me and projected their brokenness onto me.
Then I lost every single social tie that tethered me to the woman I used to be.
People say pruning is painful, but they never talk about how violent it can feel when God does it Himself.
It is not gentle.
It is not gradual.
It is not poetic.
It is cutting.
Severing.
Removing everything that cannot go into your future.
Not out of punishment.
Out of protection.
Because if I had stayed connected to those environments, I would have collapsed under the same spiritual weight that broke them.
These people were creating drama I was never meant to carry, projecting wounds I was never meant to absorb, and draining strength that was meant for my calling, not their chaos.
And this morning I realised something unmistakable.
The pruning is complete.
The severing is complete.
The healing is complete.
I am not sad.
I am not angry.
I am not longing for reconciliation.
I am not wishing for a different story.
I am not hoping for people to return.
I am not carrying their pain.
I am not carrying their choices.
I am not carrying their dysfunction.
I feel done.
Clean.
Untangled.
Free.
This is what consecration looks like.
This is what the prophetic mantle requires.
This is what stepping into Daughter of Thunder truly costs.
You lose what cannot come with you so that you can become who you were born to be.
I did not lose my family.
God removed them.
I did not lose my friends.
God pruned them.
I did not lose my old life.
God tore it down so He could build something unshakable.
This is not devastation.
This is divine strategy.
This is holy separation.
This is the moment I crossed over.
And today, without sadness or bitterness or fear, I finally say it out loud.
The healing is finished.
The pruning is complete.
I am free to walk into my calling without baggage, without weight and without the ghosts of the old world following me into the new.
The cutting away did not break me.
It prepared me.
“He cuts off every branch in Me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so it will be even more fruitful.” John 15:2
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
“Forget the former things. Do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing.” Isaiah 43:18–19
With fire and grace,
This message carries fire. Pass it on. 👇🏻
Victoria Player is the founder of Daughter of Thunder, a movement awakening spiritually sensitive women to truth, purpose, and divine power in a world that’s lost its compass. After walking through her own season of fire and rebuilding, she now writes and speaks to those who sense there’s more — guiding them from confusion to clarity, from awakening to assignment.
“I don’t bow to Babylon — I walk with the Lion.” — Daughter of Thunder
