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So many of the women I know can relate to this poem. I know I certainly can.

For every woman who (like me) has been told she feels too much, or feels too little. For every woman who has been told she talks too much, or she doesn’t say enough. For every woman who has tried to pour out her heart only to be told “But what about me?” For every woman who tried to speak her magic and got shushed by the louder voices around her. For every woman who just wanted to be truly seen heart-deep, and loved for who she is, and embraced in all her glorious imperfection but who was instead presented with a list of buts and what-if-yous and told all the ways she can do better, act better, BE better for everyone else’s comfort but her own…

You’re okay just as you are. I’m okay just as I am. I love you. Breathe.

By Becky Helmsley

She sat at the back and they said she was shy,
She led from the front and they hated her pride,
They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance,
They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence,

When she shared no ambition they said it was sad,
So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad,
They told her they’d listen, then covered their ears,
And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears,

And she listened to all of it thinking she should,
Be the girl they told her to be best as she could,
But one day she asked what was best for herself,
Instead of trying to please everyone else,

So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees,
She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves,
She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine,
And she told them what she’d been told time after time,

She told them she felt she was never enough,
She was either too little or far far too much,
Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak,
Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek,

Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs,
And she stopped…and she heard what the trees said to her,
And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave,
For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe.

A neighborhood after a winter storm

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