I’ve been so busy trying to be a "Boss" that I forgot to just be me . The me who writes poetry at 2 AM. The me who buys flowers just because they are pink. The me who believes that people are mostly good, even after being let down.

That is the kind of strength I am trying to reclaim.

October 26, 2023

It’s apologizing first even when you were technically "right." It’s praying for someone who hurt you instead of plotting revenge. It’s crying during the sad movie even when everyone else is laughing. It’s admitting you’re tired when the world expects you to say "I’m fine."

You don't have to be a storm to be remembered. You can be the rain. Gentle. Needed. Life-giving.

Lately, my faith has been pulling me back to this. The verse that keeps echoing in my chest is "Blessed are the meek." Not the powerful. Not the aggressive. The meek.

There is this unspoken pressure to be hard. To be tough. To have skin like leather and a heart that doesn’t flinch.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, sitting here with my coffee getting cold for the third time this morning (baby brain is real, momma). We live in a world that tells us that to survive, we have to build walls. That to be respected, we have to be loud. That to win, we have to be ruthless.

Bibian P.S. What is one way you are choosing softness this week? Tell me in the comments. I read every single one when I’m nursing the little one at 3 AM.

The Quiet Rebellion of Staying Soft

I look at my daughter, and I see it. She falls down seven times, but she gets up—not with a clenched fist, but with open arms reaching for a hug. She doesn't mask her tears. She doesn't apologize for needing me.