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Damsel in de-stress

It is said that the one way of overcoming fear is by facing it but for too long now, women have been forced into the backseat of their own lives by stronger drivers, through daunting MENtality.

History has had women play the role of the damsel in distress comfortably and conveniently for most of its course. A dainty figure in need of a nurturer, a protector – a flower with a gardener that looks like a scarecrow. And we’ve played the role of this flower – again for the sake of comfort and convenience, this time our own, and it worked well enough until one day we woke up to the reality of how distress might not necessarily be something that needs running away from. Maybe the flower can grow wild without needing tending – maybe my crazy can be my own form of protection. Distress, as the name clearly implies, isn’t an ideal state of being but escaping reality by always being rescued is a poor way of handling the truth of any situation. It is said that the one way of overcoming fear is by facing it but for too long now, women have been forced into the backseat of their own lives by stronger drivers, through daunting MENtality. This concept and culture of the knight in shining armour always coming to the rescue, while great material for the romantic soul, is counterproductive when it comes to self growth and personal development. A lot of the progress we experience through the course of our lives comes to us as a result of the unpleasant things that happen to it and to us. By being rescued by someone else, we’re almost being deprived of our personal ascension into a better version of ourselves. Our dessert is being kept from us because another, already visibly winning party, wishes to feel stronger still? How long is that supposed to be considered fair? Let me have the pain, let me have the grief, the anger and even the discomfort if need be – anything if it brings more. Let me reclaim my rights on my own power – at least the quiet after the storm will feel more like peace and less like the unsettling confusion we’re been given for years. It’ll feel well deserved, earned – and most importantly, my own. I’ll finally be able to feel like a winner after having lost, after having wallowed in loss. Let me marinate in the ashes long enough to feel my rise as the phoenix I am. Don’t steal my magic before I’ve had the chance to even meet it. Let me call for help when I can’t help myself anymore after having tried everything by myself, on my own. De-stressing my own distress – some day down the line, I’d like to be able to teach my daughter to first seek answers by herself and then reach outward for more – be it a gardener, a driver, a knight or a scarecrow.
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