A beautiful article by Cat O’Connor. To all the strong women I know, love, and admire. Thank you for the inspiration.
Be patient with a strong woman, it’s worth the effort
Yes, she is strong.
That strength born from facing fear, heartache, challenges and countless obstacles along her path; strength awakened as she found her own way through the storms.
This strength, built over a lifetime, has become something which defines her — a quality others see and admire, a quality available within all women, within everyone. A quality, and yet, also a defense mechanism, a tool for survival.
Not everyone finds that strength within, not every woman chooses strength as their tool.
Other women turn in various directions, draw upon various tools, and may, at times along their journey, allow themselves to break.
Those others are also her.
Because she is strong, yet in that strength is weakness.
Her strength came through the cracks of her brokenness. Behind the mask of strength are more masks — masks of fear and doubt, vulnerability and pain, uncertainty and insecurity.
The strong woman doesn’t always want to be strong. It can be a heavy weight to continually carry.
Expectations come with this strength, both from within and from the world around her.
Know that she’s looking at times for a soft space to land; to let go without judgment, without being told she needs to be fixed. Without being condemned or looked down upon.
Without being made to feel like she’s failed simply for showing another side of herself.
Be kind to this woman.
She’s spent so much time and energy working to build herself up, dig herself out and help herself up that sometimes she’s tired. Sometimes she feels weak. Lonely. Spent.
She’s become so used to wearing her mask of strength, holding herself up and pushing herself forward that it will take tremendous effort to let it go, to drop her guard.
Protecting her heart and persevering through have become so second nature to her that she may not even realize that letting go, tapping out, and giving in is what she wants and what she truly needs to do.
An inner struggle arises: I need to be strong, but I’m afraid to be weak. What will happen if I allow someone in? What will people think if I ask for help or let myself go or allow myself to rest?
The strong woman’s mind runs wild with those demons she’s been standing strong against. Opening up to vulnerability and uncertainty takes a whole new kind of strength — a form of strength that requires letting others in.
Letting her walls down and allowing herself to be real; it means actually facing the demons, rather than simply building walls around herself to keep them out.
Please be patient with a strong woman who crosses your path or joins you on the journey. It may not be easy to love her, but it will definitely be worth the effort. That strong woman will love you fiercely, faithfully and unwaveringly.
Allow her to let go, and be sure to hold her softly as she lands.
Speaking of strong women, today would have been my grandma’s 102nd birthday. She was an amazing woman, and a force to be reckoned with (in a good way).
I was a cuddle bug–still am, truth be told. 🙂
I will raise my daughter to be a goddess, not a doormat.
To speak her mind.
To make eye contact.
To know that she’s been given a voice for a reason,
And that action is what gives word meaning.
I will raise my daughter to speak two languages,
And to have expectations.
To wear her heart where people can see it.
To have patience.
I will raise my daughter to see the good in everyone.
To give two shits about our differences.
To read the New York Times and listen to NPR.
To call bullshit on ignorance is bliss.
I’ll raise my daughter to take healthy risks.
To choose chance over regret.
To chase the untold stories and the people she’s never met.
To be grateful for her privileges.
I will raise my daughter to know she’s beautiful.
That it’s her right to glow.
That her tiara is permanent.
That she doesn’t earn worth because she was born with it.
I will teach her that heartache is just as much a blessing as love is.
I will raise my daughter to be a goddess, not a doormat.
Teach her that fear is something you run at,
And that brokenness is just a temporary growing pain.
An opportunity for rebirth.
I’ll teach my daughter about compromise,
But that she decides.
About advocacy birthed from empathy,
And that everybody eventually needs somebody.
I will teach my daughter to have faith in many things.
Let her know that God is not a requirement.
I will teach her that the gender of whom she loves is up to her,
And that she decides whom she spends her life with.
I will raise my daughter to be a goddess, not a doormat.
To be a force to be reckoned with.
To speak her mind authentically.
To honor her opinion,
But not hand it out recklessly.
I’ll teach my daughter that qualified is a myth.
There are no rules for writing truth.
That she doesn’t have to ask permission to be herself.
That perfectionism has the potential to ruin all good things.
I will teach my daughter to swing 100 times.
To get up, to fight, and to always try.
To fiercely love with confidence,
Even when it feels like it’s a dying cause.
I’ll teach her to know it’s okay to ask something of this world.
To know it’s her right to expect something of herself.
That she’ll have to overcome.
That she’ll be told she’s not good enough.
But I’ll teach her that that’s a ridiculous lie,
Because she was born and raised to be divine.
***
-Chelsey Reardon
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