During your dependent days, independence meant making your own decisions, standing on your own two feet, pulling yourself up every time you fall down; but most importantly it meant having your shit together.
Even when you used to live with family, you were always on your own. And you were okay with that. In your own little way, you were preparing for the future. You have never been afraid to go solo, but it took awhile for you to learn to trust yourself. And you were continually looking for ways to be even more self-sufficient, to carve your own life path, to do what you want.
But you also love. And love terribly and fully. It’s an intense passion that’s too much for others to take. It’s a consuming, knotting, mess of emotion that interweaves you with another person. You live on the level of the soul. Surface level never fulfilled you. The love that makes you question your feelings, throws you upside-down and makes you put your faith and stubbornness and fiercely independent self in the hands of this other person. This interferes with your independent soul and because of this, you live in a constant state of confusion.
You want to be your own person, but you also want to love — and you want these two just as equally. You thrive on that sense of self, the freedom to not depend on anyone for the life you want. But you also want to love and mesh your life with this person who is nothing like you. Willingly. Happily. Your path of independence tangles with the existence of this person. And this both thrills and terrifies you.
Your world then becomes an inner battle. You quiet your stubborn mind and give into love. You find yourself curling into this person’s lap like a puppy, craving his touch, his kiss. Falling. You become the woman that confides in a man when she’s feeling lost, the woman that thinks of this man equally, if not before, herself. This is beautiful. This is love.
And then you suddenly balk. You feel weak, dependent, breakable. You don’t want to be this woman that lets a man in and hinder her growth. You don’t want to trust him cause you know how easily you can be crushed by the same hands that touched you. So you pull back. You distance yourself — to think, to recharge, to strengthen from within. You let go.
Neither side makes you fully happy. Neither side leaves you feeling complete. You cannot seem to find a balance because you crave both things so equally. And so you live in this place of tension — what you want and who you are, what you are becoming and yet so scared to be.
You are an independent woman. A woman with a strong heart and a passionate soul. You cannot let go of that part of you, the part that decides for herself and finds strength in her ability to stand alone. Yet you cannot be afraid to love. You cannot be afraid to embrace that ridiculously emotional side of you, the side that blends your strength with your passion. The side that makes you whole. You are not complete without both — without the strength you carry, without the tears and words and kisses you freely give. You are a strong, but a vulnerable woman. You are a perfect mix of both.