submissivedreamer: Last Post of the Night - Honesty Time Most women I know identify as broken women.
submissivedreamer: Last Post of the Night - Honesty Time Most women I know identify as broken women. This pains me to no end. It’s like we all fall into that Disney complex. We all want to be saved by a Prince Charming. And I wonder… Why? Why do we underestimate our strength? Why do we feel as though life causing us pain shatters us? We are stronger than that. We are not broken people. People tell me that if I don’t say that I’m broken, perhaps my life has been far easier than theirs. Maybe it has, but maybe it hasn’t. My life is far from easy - yet, I truly don’t know anyone who has an easy life. It’s all about perception. I am not broken. I do not need anyone to save me. I am a strong woman who falls sometimes, but still has the strength to get back up. I always love having helping hands. It’s easier to get back up if someone takes your hand, or someone picks up your scattered belongings from the fall. But even when the times come in my life that I don’t have those people, I am capable of getting up on my own. Does this make me an anomaly? Perhaps it does. If it does, though… That is a bitter truth. I wish more women could see that they are not broken. I spent much of my (short) life thinking that I was broken. Since I have changed that point of view? Everything is different. I’ll say it loudly, and I’ll say it proudly; I am not broken. I am not broken. You don’t need someone to come fix you. You really, truly don’t. You cannot rely upon someone else to put your life together for you. YOU need to be responsible for your own life. Nobody else. Someday, I hope you find the strength to realize that you aren’t broken, either. This is wonderful. For 85% of my life, I have considered myself “bruised but not broken”. I believe we all encounter circumstances that seem bigger than us - obstacles we have to overcome. Our obstacles are our tests, wounds we encounter; they forever stay with us, they leave their scars upon us. Whether they are visible or invisible, they tell the story of who we are, and how we can overcome. They shape us, they become the lessons we learn and are reminders of just how strong we truly are. But sometimes we encounter wounds that take longer to heal. I’ve seemed to be stuck in my 15% these days. I keep trying to believe the “optimistic” outlook, to look at these wounds not as a bloody disaster but rather a storm that is lingering longer than normal but is due to pass soon. That the rainbow should once again appear, and with it the sun. Just when hope appears, though, I find another rain cloud above that then drenches back into despair, leaving me desolate and filled with bitterness and all alone. Trapped and suffocating. I want the rainbow. I want the sunshine. But this time, it’s really hard to find. I really hope it finds me soon. I’m drowning in my loneliness, and the line you threw to help pull back into the light has began to unravel. A helping hand disguised in an affectionate, warm, loving embrace is a bigger bandage to these wounds then you can ever imagine. I just wish you would notice when I need to feel safely wrapped within the strength of your healing embrace. -- source link