This is what it means to be independent: you make your own decisions, you stand on your own two feet, you pull yourself up when you fall down, and you have your sh*t together.
You have always been this way, always been okay on your own. You have never been afraid to go solo and to trust yourself. And you are 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, beautifully, fully. You love with a passion that’s sickening. A consuming, knotting, mess of emotion that interweaves you with another person. A love that twists 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.
Because of this, you live in a constant state of tension.
There are two things you want—to be your own person and to love—but you want them just as equally. You crave that sense of self, the ability to not have to depend on anyone else for the life you want. But when you love, you mesh your life with another person’s. Willingly. Happily. The path you have set for yourself becomes tangled with that person’s. 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, the woman that leans on 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.
But then you suddenly balk. You feel weak, dependent, breakable. You have become the woman that let a man in, who trusted him, who can easily be crushed by the same hands that touch her. So you swing to the other side. You pull away. You spend time alone, just recharging, remembering that sense of self. Letting 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 passionate soul. You cannot let go of that part of you, the part that decides for herself, 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 woman. You are an emotional woman. You are a perfect mix of both.