Woman

When Rian was little, around 2 I’d guess, I taught her to say the thing I wished most for her.  I am a strong and powerful woman.  When we were driving, with friends, hanging out at home, I would ask her.  What kind of woman are you?  Her response was always the same.  I am a strong and powerful woman.  Of course, it was insanely cute to see this button of a 2 year old parroting such a phrase.  But I wanted that phrase to become ingrained in her. To seep into her soul and become a defining characteristic.  

For myself, I think I lost sight of this for a while. I can never hope for my daughter to have such a view of herself if I, as one of her role models, forget this truth.  I am a strong and powerful woman.  Strong in both the physical sense, as well as, in conviction. Powerful, meaning that deep from within she is a force to be reckoned with. She knows herself. Trusts herself. 

Remembering this always leads to that inner struggle of mine. Control.  Seeking to control those around me and their behaviors, the outcomes, the rules, the consequences.  This is not control. This is futile.  The control experienced by a strong and powerful woman comes from within.  Figuring that out took a freaking long time, but thank god I did. How I react,  how I view my world, how I move about my daily life, that is how I maintain control.  When I find this within myself, I have control. 

Because I have the control, I get to choose.  I choose who gets to be part of my life. And I get to choose who stays. I can choose to walk away from a friendship that isn’t working. I can choose to allow a new friend in.  I can choose to be happy. I can choose to be sad.  I can also choose when to let go and free fall.