I am strong AF.

Stronger than any man I know, or stronger than any female I know. But the truth is sometimes I use my “strength” to hide my inner vulnerabilities.

Sometimes, I use it to keep men away.

Sometimes, I use it to not let others approach me close enough to see how much I’m actually suffering within.

I am strong AF.

Yes. I have been to hell and back—and hell has trained me well to be a devil when I want to be.

It has also covered up my soft sides with lots of dust—my feminine heart, my desire for more, better, magical, amazing.

My strength has come in handy, as much as it has hindered me to open up to the real me within.

It has made me put huge armors around my body, heart, and mind. I act like a soldier on a battlefield—always alert of danger, anxious of dying at any moment, and rigid, tight, and almost numb.

My strength shows up to others. They tell me how proud they are of me. They don’t know that sometimes my strength is just a f*cking facade—a protective mechanism that I unconsciously or consciously use to protect myself from being hurt, from touching the edges of my inner insanity, or for fear of being used and abused.

Sometimes my strength makes me so serious—hiding behind my mask until it falls off.

As a woman, I know that women, in general, have a tremendous capacity for strength.

We are resilient at heart.

We could be the best MF soldiers and fighters we want to be, but that’s only half of the story.

The other half is we most often than not use our strength as a shield to protect us from men, to protect us from our face masks falling off, or protect us from showing our real true self with all its desires and vulnerability.

As long as we will continue to think “I’m tough,” “I got this sh*t,” or “I can do it alone,” we will continue to delude ourselves that we are getting anywhere while trying hard to protect our hearts and nervous system from pain, trauma responses, true love, high-quality sex, or what it is we desire at the heart of our hearts.

My definition of strength is slowly shifting.

It is changing as I change and mature.

Real strength is stating our inner truths: our desires as a woman.

What are they really?

Hiding away our feminine heart for the sake of protecting ourselves from something or anyone is not strength.

It’s a self-sabotaging technique that comes with weak, egocentric thinking.

Our feminine heart is made to be exposed, to feel it all, to be open wide, to receive, to soften, to allow life to penetrate in all ways.

Now, this does not mean we have no boundaries, but true intelligence comes with true inner strength.

Real strength is coming on the stage naked, half-naked, or with any type of clothing that fills our desires and tells our story, as it is.

Let’s tell the world that we use our strength to protect ourselves from pain or harm or abuse.

Tell the world that we use masks of strength to keep men away for fear of being hurt or abused.

Tell the world the real f*cking story of ourselves, and tell ourselves the real story of ourselves.

How we manipulate and self-sabotage ourselves into some otherworldly kind of strength, when within, we long to be touched, f*cked, seen, heard, embraced, kissed, licked, and heard.

No one can really hear you or me if we show off as “strong” when internally we desire something completely different.

No one can really see us if we pretend to be strong when we are at our knees praying to find a better way of being loving and experiencing all we want to experience in life—all that which we desire might be on the other side of our “strength.”

Let’s loosen up.

Let’s get loose for f*ck’s sake.

Let’s get mad in our desire and shake in our vulnerability.

Let’s tell a different story or create a new storyline for ourselves—that benefits other humans and ourselves.

Will it all be this easy?

F*ck, no.

But we can start unbuttoning our heavy clothes, and one by one come forth lighter.

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