There’s a new woman walking around in my skin, and I quite like her. She doesn’t lose sleep over who approves of her, she happily exits any room that costs her peace, and she has zero interest in performing emotional gymnastics to keep anyone comfortable. She is not mean, bitter, or hard, she’s just done with chaos, confusion, and conversations that require a decoder ring. If it’s not clear, kind, or grounded, she’s not signing up.
For years, I’ve been labeled “too strong” or “she can handle her own,” as if strength disqualifies a woman from softness or support. The funny thing is, the stronger I’ve become, the easier I love, and the easier I release. I can care deeply and still walk away or shut the door gracefully when my peace is on the line. That’s not coldness; that’s emotional adulthood. I no longer see relationships as auditions where I’m trying to prove I’m worth choosing. I know my value. If someone can’t see it, that’s not a crisis; that’s a quiet redirection.
This isn’t about not wanting people in my life. It’s about refusing to shrink to keep my seat at a table that was never built for the fullness of who I am. I’m not squeezing myself into any box labeled “less,” “quieter,” or “easier to manage.” I’m choosing the wild luxury of wholeness over the discount version of myself that will make someone comfortable. Call it selfish if you want. I call it stewardship. I am finally curating my life like it’s the only one I have – because it is. And peace, I’ve decided, is my non-negotiable.
Nice to meet you….
Xoxo,
Lady Abena.