There
are some things that reach me more deeply than I let people see. I can be
strong, independent, and perfectly capable of carrying my own life, but
underneath all of that, there is still a part of me that feels things
quietly. A kindness can stay with me for days. A goodbye can linger
longer than I expect. And sometimes, even after I have moved on, my
heart still remembers.
A
lot has changed this year, quietly. I changed the way I saw myself, who I
allowed close, and what I was willing to carry. I became more protective of my
energy, more certain of my boundaries, and a little more at peace with the act
that not everyone needs to have access to me. Maybe that is always what being a
woman means to me now. I don’t need to be the one reaching first, proving
first, asking first. I can simply reciprocate what is given to me. I
can meet effort with effort, kindness with kindness, presence with presence.
And when something isn’t being offered, I no longer feel the need to keep
reaching into the empty space.
It
isn’t pride. It isn’t playing hard to get. It is knowing myself well enough to
know where I stop. I can still have a soft heart without giving it to everyone.
I can still care without carrying what isn’t mine. I can still believe in love
without chasing it. And perhaps that is the quiet change in me this year, I
haven’t become harder. I simply become more discerning about where my
softness belongs.
There
is something beautiful about having a soft heart and still knowing your worth.
To remain tender, while knowing when to step back. To love gently, without losing
yourself in the process. Perhaps that is the kind of woman I am becoming.