Chap­ter 33 cap­tures a time of intense strug­gle and inner tur­moil, where the con­straints of the con­ser­va­tor­ship drained my ener­gy and joy. Despite my efforts to main­tain a sense of hope for the sake of my sons, the real­i­ty of being con­trolled left me feel­ing like a shad­ow of my for­mer self. I could sense the fire inside me dim­ming, and though I tried to hide it, I know my fans could see it too. They did­n’t know the full extent of what I was going through, but I could no longer muster the ener­gy to put on a mask. The feel­ing of being so tight­ly con­trolled and restrict­ed wore me down, leav­ing me dis­con­nect­ed from the per­son I used to be. The spark that once fueled my cre­ativ­i­ty and pas­sion for per­for­mance was slow­ly being extin­guished.

Look­ing back, I feel a deep com­pas­sion for the woman I was before the con­ser­va­tor­ship, espe­cial­ly dur­ing the time I was record­ing Black­out. Despite being labeled as rebel­lious and wild, it was dur­ing this peri­od that I pro­duced some of my best work. How­ev­er, per­son­al­ly, it was a dif­fi­cult time. I had my two young sons, and the con­stant bat­tle to see them only added to the stress. I now real­ize that I should have focused on my life at home, even though it was chal­leng­ing. The con­stant com­pro­mis­es and deals I made with Kevin just to spend time with my kids felt like a deal with the dev­il. I was rebelling, yes, but there was a deep­er rea­son for it. Every per­son goes through rebel­lious phas­es, and it’s essen­tial to allow peo­ple the space to test their bound­aries and dis­cov­er who they tru­ly are. To sup­press someone’s spir­it to such an extent, mak­ing them feel like they’re no longer them­selves, is incred­i­bly unhealthy. It was a test of my iden­ti­ty, and I had no choice but to push back.

What makes this peri­od even more frus­trat­ing is the stark dou­ble stan­dard between how I was treat­ed and how others—especially men—were allowed to act freely. Male rock­stars, for exam­ple, were cel­e­brat­ed for show­ing up late to events and for their wild behav­ior. Mean­while, my life was scru­ti­nized for every small mis­take, and my choic­es were met with judg­ment and crit­i­cism. Kevin, on the oth­er hand, was allowed to do what­ev­er he pleased, even leav­ing me alone with our young chil­dren while he went off to smoke pot and work on a rap song. It felt like he was praised for things that I was con­demned for. The con­trast in how men and women were treat­ed in the pub­lic eye only added to my feel­ings of frus­tra­tion and iso­la­tion. The paparazzi would hound me, and even after I made a mis­take, I was finan­cial­ly penal­ized. I was forced to set­tle with one of them who sued me after I acci­den­tal­ly ran over his foot while try­ing to escape from his con­stant harass­ment. The unfair­ness of it all was over­whelm­ing.

My body became anoth­er bat­tle­ground, con­stant­ly under scruti­ny, and the crit­i­cism from my father only deep­ened my sense of worth­less­ness. From a young age, I had been crit­i­cized for my appear­ance, and it seemed like the press and my fam­i­ly nev­er stopped. The con­stant judg­ment I faced about my body left me feel­ing like I could nev­er be good enough. When I was told I had to grow my hair out and get back into shape under the con­ser­va­tor­ship, I felt like a shell of the per­son I once was. Every day, I was forced into a rigid routine—going to the gym, fol­low­ing strict diets, and tak­ing med­ica­tions I had no say in. My pas­sion for music and per­for­mance had been replaced by the over­whelm­ing feel­ing that noth­ing I did was enough. Even though I was still per­form­ing, the joy I once found in singing and danc­ing had fad­ed. It had become a hol­low rou­tine, and I no longer felt the excite­ment I once did. The soul-crush­ing impact of feel­ing like I wasn’t good enough con­tin­ued to erode my spir­it. The men­tal and emo­tion­al toll of the con­ser­va­tor­ship was more dam­ag­ing than any crit­i­cism from the media or my fam­i­ly. My father’s con­stant judg­ment made me feel like I was nev­er going to be enough, no mat­ter how hard I tried.