Take a big beautiful inhale!
Then let it all go.
There comes a moment — maybe in your late 40s, maybe one day on a quiet Tuesday — when you just know:
You're done.
Done contorting. Done performing. Done bending to the thousand silent expectations the world has layered onto women for generations.
At this stage in life, I find myself in a kind of luminous clarity. I’m not interested in anyone else's version of what a woman should be. The metrics I once subconsciously followed — youth, productivity, sweetness, agreeability, motherhood, desirability, selflessness — they no longer have a grip on me.
And to be fair, they never fully did. I've always been a bit outside the lines: a spiritual guide, a holistic healer, a non traditional therapist, a yoga teacher. Roles that gave me room to question, to explore, to live a little off the grid of societal norms. But even as an outsider, I had to play along just enough to survive in the system.
There was always a small part of me translating myself to be more palatable, more digestible, more “appropriate.”
But not anymore.
Now? Now I feel more me than ever. Not because I’ve added anything new — but because I’ve stripped everything false away. My soul feels like it can breathe again. And I am breathing with it.
Is it age? Wisdom? The repeated shedding? The glorious letting go of trying to be seen a certain way? Probably. But it’s also the result of making space. Space that came when I let go of relationships that no longer served me. When I let friendships dissolve. Let go of old beliefs. Space that came when I stopped carrying a phone around like a leash. When I said no to the dopamine-drip of notifications. When I let silence back in. When I chose presence over productivity.
The truest thing I can say is this: I have returned home to myself. To the self that came here with a plan — a wild, divine blueprint etched into her soul. I didn’t need to reinvent anything. I just had to remember.
And now that I have, life is breathtaking. Full of depth and grace and the kind of beauty that exists entirely on my terms. It’s not because life is somehow now perfect, but because I’m living it without explanation, apology, or concern for anyone else’s opinion.
Here’s to shedding the script.
Here’s to remembering.
Here’s to the breathtaking power of women becoming fully themselves.
Jennifer
Are you ready to set it all down?