She is not proud, but she does carry herself well. She walks with her head held high because she doesn’t believe in needing people to save her; she has always been strong enough to save herself.
Catalog
Marisa Donnelly
Marisa Donnelly graduated Summa Cum Laude from Waldorf University in May 2015 with a B.S. in Secondary English Education, a B.A. in English, and a B.A. in Creative Writing with endorsements in Secondary Reading and Coaching. She is a Midwest-born, West Coast-based writer, poet, essayist and licensed teacher working as a full-time Staff Writer and Editor/Producer for Thought & Expression Co.
The truth about being a strong woman is that the world sees us as a threat. We’re just ‘too much,’ ‘too intimidating,’ too ‘jaded’ and ‘miserable’ and ‘bitter’. But we are none of those things. We are women with backbones. Women who aren’t afraid to be proud of ourselves in a world that might not…
Strong women are the best women to love. We are the women with fierce compassion. We know who we are and we are not afraid to embrace that. We love whole-heartedly because we love ourselves. And we are not only looking to better ourselves, but our partners, our worlds.
To be a strong woman simply means that I am grounded and confident in who I am.
Here is what being a strong woman means to me: It means standing up for myself. It means that I am a fully-functioning human, one who is independent and able to do things for herself. It means that I have opinions and beliefs that I stand for, and that I do not settle for less.
Sweetie, I can stand on my own. You can’t carry me, but you can walk beside me. I know you want to save me, but I don’t need any saving.
I fought back against what I didn’t agree with, I let my voice be heard and my heart sing out. I fell in love. I fell out. I pursued things that ignited my soul. I chased people and passions that made me feel whole. I became. And I love who I am now.
I was born with a voice. I was born with two legs. I was born from a father who taught me yell, to run, to kick. And a mother who showed me how to draw, to sketch, to dream. I learned young that to be myself, I must be fearless. I must be fierce. I must be passionate and driven and bold. I learned…
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 let him in. 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…
You love with a passion that’s sickening. A consuming, knotting, mess of emotion that interweaves you with another person.
You were all things soft: a feather, a candle a kiss on a tired cheek. But you were not weak. You took the world and made all yours. And yes, you became.
And so you became. Your soul felt lighter, shifting with the weight of change. You stopped trying to fit and started to just be. Imperfect and flawed, tough and soft, tender and strong.
Maybe where the sky and the water and the sand meet my new story begins. I am just now in my infinite moment becoming.
You were born with wandering feet and a heart already whole.
I have found a home in a woman strong, fierce, and loved. And she smiles back at me in the bathroom mirror. Proud and unafraid.
You were meant to run. Born to grab the earth with your fingertips, taste the wild and uncharted on your tongue.
They never know how to love a strong woman until she’s gone, until they realize all she needed was to fly without her wings being clipped.