I felt I had to tough it out for a long time if I wanted to live. That strength was silence, independence was loneliness, and tenderness was a fault I could not afford to reveal. Life had taught me, both directly and indirectly, that the less likely you were to be injured, the more loudly, sharply, guardedly you became. But with time and introspection, I have come to know something potent: true strength lies in your capacity to stay gentle in a world that so often demands you harden rather than in how loud you are or how thick your skin is. To feel profoundly, to forgive when hatred seems more straightforward, to love even after you have been damaged calls great courage.
Being able to bear suffering and beauty simultaneously is something inherently feminine and deeply human. I have seen it in the women who raised me, the way they cried silently while still showing up for others. The way they carried burdens no one spoke about, yet found means to grow, laugh, and live completely. I now see that strength is often about stopping, breathing, caring for your wounds, and deciding not to let the world steal your gentleness, rather than only pushing through. It is the gentle quality that helps us connect, empathize, and know one another. This is what enables us to live totally. It has not been simple to learn how to accept my gentleness. It’s about unlearning guilt about my feelings, allowing myself to cry without guilt, confessing when I’m tired, asking for assistance, stating “I don’t know,” and not viewing those events as failures.
It has been selecting grace above criticism for both others and myself. It’s honoring the woman I’m becoming while holding room for my inner child. And doing so has revealed a different sort of strength, one not afraid to be silent, to listen intently, to stand alone if required, and to leave anything that threatens my peace. Gentleness, empathy, and caring have a quiet strength. I now understand that being gentle does not equate to being inactive. Being deliberative means being intent. It means knowing your value so well that you don’t have to show it via brutality or violence. It implies knowing that you can be both tender and ferocious concurrently. The most deadly lady is the one who can stay nice in a world that hasn’t always been nice to her. So, yes, I am soft. Good things make me weep. I sit with people when they are in pain. I raise. I love it totally, even when it’s frightening. That softness is, then, my power. It is the portion of me that declines to grow numb. It is the area that reminds me I’m still living, still evolving, still founded on something truthful and whole.
Post Disclaimer
Utilizing my own personal experiences as well as my background as a Registered Nurse, I share my enthusiasm for travel and health on this blog. Though I love what I do and sometimes talk about tactics for modest health improvement, keep in mind that the material provided might not be exact. The material herein is just for self-improvement. The content shared draws on my own experiences, thoughts, and stories. With this in mind, readers should consult their healthcare providers about any concerns they may experience.
Since each person has a different health path, what helps one person may not help another. Readers should consult their personal healthcare providers for personalized guidance based on their individual needs and circumstances. Rather than replacing the professional, my goal here is to inspire, enlighten, and start conversations that improve and make life more fulfilling relations between you and your medical staff.