Is It Safe to Be Soft?

I’ve always been self-aware.
I can name what I feel, trace where it came from, and label it in real time.
It’s a gift—until it becomes armor.

Because when you know how to intellectualize your emotions, you don’t have to feel them all the way.
You can explain them instead.

For most of my life, that’s how I protected myself.
I could process my way out of pain. I could rationalize the ache.
And if I couldn't? I’d go quiet. Shut down. Shut out.

It’s something my loved ones notice—when I retreat, when I go missing inside myself.
Not because I don’t love them.
But because being tender never felt safe enough.

I never trusted that someone would know what to do with my feelings.
So I carried them alone.

The Armor I Didn’t Know I Was Wearing

Being the strong one isn’t just a title—it’s a posture.
It’s knowing how to hold everyone else together and hoping someone will notice when you’re not okay, without having to say it.

I love being that person for people.
But if I’m honest, it’s exhausting to constantly hold space and rarely feel it returned.
The same emotional safety I offer others isn’t always given back when I need it.
And that kind of disconnect is heavy.

So I became strong out of necessity—not choice.
And now that I have a choice, I’m learning to choose differently.

What Softness Has Looked Like For ME

Softness never made me feel protected. It felt like exposure.
And when you’ve never trusted people to hold you gently, you learn to hold yourself in pieces.

But I’m trying something new now.

Lately, softness has looked like taking care of myself first—consistently, not just when things fall apart.
It’s walking daily to music that makes me feel grounded.
It’s stretching every morning—not because it’s part of a routine, but because it reminds me I have a body, not just a mind.
It’s wearing perfume while I work from home, sitting on the balcony without rushing the moment, breathing like I mean it.

It’s making myself the priority before I pour into anyone else.
Softness is not explaining myself when I choose peace.
It’s letting the quiet be enough.

The Weight of Emotional Loneliness

I’m someone who validates myself constantly—because I’ve had to.
Not because I haven’t had support, but because I haven’t always trusted people with the deepest parts of me.
It’s hard to hand over something tender when you’re not sure it’ll be met with care.

Sometimes I wish expressing my emotions didn’t come with second-guessing, or explaining, or wondering if I’ll be understood in the way I need to be.
So I pull back. I go into my head.
I loop through my own healing process until I come out the other side.

But even in that solitude, I’ve been asking myself—what if this is the season I let myself be held, even a little?

I’ve been moving slowly, not because I’m stuck, but because I want to feel everything.
I don’t want to bypass this part.

To support that, I’ve started looking into somatic therapy—something that might help me feel more connected to my body, not just my thoughts.
Because healing can’t live in the head alone.

That’s one of the reasons I created The Girls Club—to offer a space where softness and stillness are not just welcomed, but honored.

The Quiet Arrival

I’ve been going back to old photos.
Reading old journal entries.
Looking at cards people have written me.

Not to reminisce—but to remind myself: I have been here. I have done beautiful things.
I have been loved. I have shown up, even when it was hard.
And I should be proud of that.

Sometimes we get so caught up in who we’re becoming that we forget how many versions of ourselves have already made it.

Softness, for me, is about remembering that.
It’s about honoring the present without rushing toward the next thing.
It’s about slowing down enough to be proud of where I already am.

Girl, Finally

I don’t have to be guarded to be safe.
I don’t have to carry it all alone to be valuable.
And I don’t have to rush my healing to prove I’m okay.

Softness isn’t weakness. It’s honesty.
It’s being gentle with myself in a world that expected me to be hard just to survive.

✨ New reflections drop every Tuesday.
Girl, finally—I’m soft and still standing.