The Wild Woman I Am Becoming

I am learning to be brave

not the kind that bites her tongue or clenches her fists to prove her strength,

but the kind that tells the truth with a trembling voice and stays anyway.

I am learning to trust myself,

to stop second guessing every soft part of me that once bent under pressure

but never broke.

I am making peace with the bruised girl I was and the wild woman I’m becoming.

I’m forgiving myself for every time I shrank,

for every moment I handed my worth to someone else’s opinion.

I carried so much anger in my chest like fire I didn’t know how to tame,

and still, I showed up.

Now, I am learning to open,

to crack the door just a little.

I am learning to let light in and let people near

without the sirens screaming danger in my head.

I am learning not to push love away just because it doesn’t come with a warning.

I am learning that trust is not a weakness,

it’s a home I get to build within myself.

I find joy in tiny, ordinary things,

like the scent of fresh coffee, the way the wind tucks itself behind my ears,

and the warmth of someone remembering my name without being asked to.

So when I break, I’ll do it honestly.

I’ll break without shame.

Because I know now that every time I come undone,

I come back truer.

I don’t want to be the strongest anymore.

I want to be real.

I want to be free.

So if you’re watching this moment,

if you’ve been tracing the scars and wondering if I’d make it,

just know: I did.

I am not the girl who barely made it through.

I am the woman who stood in the fire, and built herself into something holy.

I am not a survivor story.

I am a revolution in slow bloom.