To The Too Strong Women

I see what the world has done to you. How it has asked you to carry the weight, the load, of it all, with no help, no assistance and no understanding. I see how it has asked you to hide it and pretend, to put on lipstick and smile. I see how it has changed you, how you hold yourself because of it. I see through it. I see you. I see your struggle.

I see what breaking yourself into consumable pieces has done to you. I see what giving up yourself has cost you. I see the pain you hold and carry as you fit yourself into too small spaces and contain yourself to be pleasing, enough, to blend, to be accepted, to be the nice girl, the good girl, the one who does what she should and carries it without a complaint…

I see the pain you carry of your too muchness in a world that wants stepford wives.

I see your struggle.

I see the pain of the babies you birthed that ripped you into a new person with no one to teach you what was happening, with no ceremony honouring the death of the old you and the birth of the new you.

I see the babies you couldn’t carry that caused you pack yourself up into too small spaces because of what you couldn’t do.

I see the babies you aborted that forced you into the darkest corners of yourself where no light existed, where you lost yourself and shrunk into a half a person.

I see the choice to remain childless that forced you to fight for your right to choice, to breathe, to exist in a world that values women only for motherhood but defiles them for it by taking away the power of the creatrix that lives within.

I see how motherhood or lack of motherhood changed you, defined you, created you, nearly killed you.

Too strong woman,

I see you. Every slap, kiss, every sex act that you didn’t want but didn’t know how to stop. I see the expectation and the weight of the responsibility to be the sex goddess, to perform, even when you don’t want to. I see the weight of the unhealed trauma that makes you crawl inside yourself and slither away.

I see every expectation, criticism, every loss of yourself, every cringe as you silence yourself, swallow it down, while looking at your bank account, feeling powerless as you go to that job or home because you’ve believed the lies that it’s the only way.

I see every hope and dream washed down the drain. Every tear cried in the shower as you gasp for just a little air, a little space, a depth that you know exists, that your soul calls for that you cannot seem to find in the confined spaces you live.

Too strong woman,

I see you, bending yourself until you break, holding on too long, trying to fix it all. I see you taking on what’s not yours, bandaiding and covering up, making nice and taking care of everyone but yourself.

I see you as the caretaker of your too old parents, too sick friends, needy people in your life. I see you holding everyone up and no one holding you up.

I see you boss babing your life, wearing the pants, taking what you want, dominating your world, your field, in a masculine mask, throwing away your vulnerability, your softness for fear you will be regaled to the back benches for hysterical women.

Too strong woman,

I see you redefining yourself, creating yourself, blending and changing yourself to fit into spaces you don’t belong, seeking belonging in places you shouldn’t be, in places that will never feed you, that will only suffocate you.

Too strong woman,

I see you, holding on when you should be letting go. I see you, creating when you should be destroying. I see you walking in when you should be walking out. I see you making it pretty when you should be unveiling the truth. I see you lying to yourself about your expectations, your too muchness, your happiness.

Too strong woman, I see that glass of wine, that cigarette, that joint, that phone, that perfect body,  that cover up the lost soul that lives outside of you, trying to get back in.

Too strong woman, you don’t know, you’re not losing your mind, you’ve lost your soul. You’re living the checklist, the nightmare, thinking it’s the dream, but it doesn’t make you happy, it makes you scream.

The world is in crisis, women are in crisis, not because of what you carry but how you carry it alone, hiding behind masks and walls and pretending it’s all fine. When you have to break yourself into pieces to keep it all together, it’s not you, woman, it’s the world who loves to keep a woman from her power because the most dangerous creature of all is a woman in her power.

Your birthright is divinity, respect, power. Your birthright is knowing, reverence, intuition. Your birthright is your soul. But society taught you to throw it away and lose yourself in the hope of becoming enough, never realizing that you were enough when you were whole.

Too strong woman,

Your power isn’t in your ability to hold it all together. Your power is in your ability to destroy all that’s not you. To lose yourself you must disconnect from the truth, break yourself into bits and accept that you don’t have the power of the entire universe running through you.

Too strong woman,

Letting it down, asking for help, coming undone is the way back to you. You must walk the path through the darkness to find your deepest truth. You must unlock the boxes in which you’ve packed yourself, you must awaken to the power that lives within you.

The way back home, too strong woman, is to let it go. I know that’s scary. I know all you know is holding on and digging in and never letting yourself be weak. But weakness isn’t letting go, it’s holding long after it’s gone.

The way back home is through.

Too strong woman,

Explore your pain, explore your stuckness, explore the way you give to everyone but yourself, explore the way you push forward, no matter what, explore how you just keep going, explore how you never give up, explore how you relentlessly find a way, explore how you do it all alone, never let anyone in or to see what you’re holding onto.

Too strong woman,

I know you. I used to be you. I never let anyone in. I never let anyone see. Until one day I decided to let go. No one came for me. I knew they wouldn’t. But I came for myself. I fought for who I became. I thought my power was in my hiding but it wasn’t… it was in my reclaiming me and choosing to live. It was choosing to see my scars as proof I showed up for my life and the path it took to get here, instead of shame.

It was choosing to forgive myself for all the times I twisted myself into someone I wasn’t. It finding redemption in the spaces where I violated my values and did things I wasn’t and never will be proud of. It was in the forgiveness of others for their violations. And it was in the power of surrendering, that I found my way home.

And now I’m just powerful.

I’m not too strong. I’m not too weak. I just am who I am. A strong, confident, powerful, unapologetic woman who refuses to dull or shrink every again. Not from force but from true power. But I used to be too strong… like you… and if I can do this… so can you.

Stay Wild,