True
3211;
Score | 20
In Mental Health 3 min read
The Becoming of Her ✨
<p>What will they say? Will they like it? I hope this suits them. Will I be accepted?</p><p>Questions like these occupied her mind every moment, and the thought of fitting into the world’s standards seemed to eat her up. Despite her unrelenting efforts to prove herself, it all came to naught. She imitated and followed their ways, yet was still considered old-fashioned.</p><p><br/></p><p><em>This had been her life for as long as she could remember; </em> waking up with heartache, knowing she would go through another endless circle of the rat race, and sleeping with the heavy heart of unfulfilled expectations.</p><p>She looked into the mirror and was reminded of how much of a failure she thought she was. Jeering voices trailed her everywhere; every eye watched closely to see what would become of her. Her family, too, expected so much. She hung her head in shame, haunted by her past mistakes and shortcomings. She cried in her secret place but pretended to be fine in public. Every day felt like a living hell.</p><p><br/></p><p>Responsibility. Responsibility. Responsibility and more responsibility.</p><p>Accountability and endless expectations pressed her down. She was bent under societal pressure, bound by countless rules bearing the burden of her gender. Her life? It's already planned before she was born: grow up, get married, give birth, remain submissive, stay silent in public, never voice an opinion, endure pain, satisfy everyone's need, and lots more. </p><p><br/></p><p>Sad, dejected, and without an option, she submitted and bent under the pressure: for they that were against her were more than they that are with her. She wasn’t allowed to dream, and time and again, she was shown why she shouldn’t. Quieted by these harsh realities, she withdrew into her shell, after she was told that she's not the owner of herself but merely programmed to run life’s errands.</p><p>Like a caged bird, she longed for freedom. Singing her song of liberty, her voice echoed across the land. Stripped of everything but her voice, she told the story of a prisoner in captivity.</p><p><br/></p><p>Then, gradually, she began to shut out the voices outside and looked within; seeing herself for who she truly was. She realized she possessed not just a voice, but worth that had been repeatedly trampled upon, and pride that had been dragged through the mud. With this discovery, her eyes opened like a slumberer awakening from a long slumber.</p><p><br/></p><p>Strengthened by this resolve, she rises; her goals, purpose, and voice joining forces with her to fight every form of subjugation, subjection, and segregation.</p><p><br/></p><p>She arises; beaten but not broken, limited but not lost, damaged but not dead.</p><p>And like Maya Angelou said, “....You may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness. But still like the air, I’ll rise.”</p><p>She arises, claims her stand, and with her voice, she earns her respect and redeems her worth.</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>She arises and claims her crown</strong> 👑✨ </p><p><br/></p>

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