To the Damsel in Distress
The stories we tell ourselves can weave their tentacles around us, suffocating us like Devil’s Snare at the entrance to the trapdoor guarding the Sorcerer’s Stone. They catch us, impeding our progress, forcing us to stare straight ahead, and the more we try to escape these big, bad, wolves, the tighter their grip.
These stories spin any number of ways, but – most often – we’re the damsel in distress, at the mercy of others, awaiting our rescue.
We're sold ideals - often ones we didn't choose for ourselves. We're enmeshed in an overculture holding that the primary purpose of a woman is to be decoration: we are to be looked at first, and we experience no shortage of tips and tricks to help improve our appearances. Comments on our bodies are often the loudest of all, proclaiming that if we aren't up to the standard, nothing else matters.
We look for respite in creams, in exercise programs, in diets...only to discover that these often provide little relief. Perhaps because these are attempts to solve an issue we never agreed was a problem in the first place.
Autonomy is the name of the game, here, friends. When we choose our priorities and the direction in which our bodies (and lives) will go, we gather the linchpin to our success: ourselves.
We set the standard. We select our goals. We step into our power, releasing our shame, and making our magic, changing the narrative, one step at a time.
What if, all along, YOU’VE been the one for whom you’ve been waiting?
What if, instead of struggling against the tight binds of its grip, you relaxed into a friendship with your story? And with yourself?
What if, rather than getting wrapped up in a story that means you’re “bad” or “wrong” or “failing,” you released yourself from assigning meaning? From doling out judgment?
Things are what they are. We have control over very little, in terms of external circumstances.
Our power lies in our ability to shapeshift: in our willingness to creep from, “I never get it right; I’ve wanted to feel stronger for years, but I guess I’m just a weak person,” toward, “I haven’t gotten it right yet, but what if I tried something new? Would that introduce me to a victory, even if it’s small?”
Our stories are powerful, but we have the opportunity to adjust our point of view, to introduce a new but familiar character, – ourselves – and to rewrite the story.
Our magic shows itself strong in our adaptability, so roll up your sleeves, take a deep breath, and ask yourself what would happen if you grabbed a pen and started crafting a new ending.
