Dear Ladies,
Why do we keep letting men back into our lives that show us no respect? Is it that we think no good men are out there? Are these men, who continually hurt us, cheat and lie, truly all we deserve? All that’s available? Do we believe the lie that men can’t help themselves when they treat us poorly?
I am no exception to this inquiry. I have gone back repeatedly to men who don’t see me as an equal and certainly don’t treat me as one. Men who take for granted the kindness I offer up. And men who tempt me to harden the walls of my heart to keep out the pain.
I am not alone in this. Month after month I sit with my girlfriends and listen to broken hearts, women who are fed up and women who long for something better. Yet, as soon as her man flashes that smile, tells her she’s the one, buys her flowers, apologizes, and holds his arms out, she runs back into them. Seemingly suffering from a magical amnesia strong enough to rewrite history herstory.
And I wonder why we keep doing this to ourselves.
Why, despite our bold words, strengthened in the depths of our despair, do we let these men back into our lives? How do our words and convictions sink away like the shifting of sand below our feet?
For me, and I’d assume most women, it’s a mixture of what I mentioned before. I think there is often an underlying fear that despite his downfalls, maybe this man—who has a job, who can articulate his feelings when he chooses, and who checks at least a few things off our list—is the best I’m ever going to find. I see this narrative play out especially when the agency of movement is limited for women. This limited agency insists that the likelihood of increasing the male pool for a relationship is almost nonexistent, and mostly determined by the movement of men coming as opposed to women going.
And if it isn’t the underlying fear of he might be as good as it gets, it’s the dirty secret we try to run from. The secret that somehow the world has convinced us, we don’t think a better man would choose me.
Choose you?
As if men unceremoniously shop for women just as women walk through the stores and markets to shop for groceries. Then we are taught, on the off chance that we are in fact selected, chosen, desired more than her, then we are taught to celebrate our good fortune. We are taught to receive with great enthusiasm that I am different than all the other women he could have chosen. The world wedges just another degree of separation between us and our fellow sisters. We place one more lock on Pandora’s Box of women’s immense power. Power manifested fiercest when in communion among other women.
And so instead of tapping into that power, when he comes home late with another woman on his breath, we blame ourselves. Or better yet we blame her. We, disconnected women, act alone. We unknowingly or unwillingly guard the heavily chained box that the world locked. And never tap into our true power.
We do not hold our man accountable for what he’s done. And if we do, it is for but a moment. Until that smile, those flowers, and his arms open to draw us back in. Until that amnesia sinks in.
But the story does not end there. We, as humans, are creatures of habit. But we, as women, are also divine. And if we choose, we possess a limitless capacity to change, develop and grow. We have the keys to Pandora’s Box.
What if we decided to open it?
Be sure to stay connected ladies (and gentlemen). Subscribe to the blog, follow on Instagram and Twitter Let’s continue to be honest, seek out support and encourage one another to bloom. Keep compassion close, stay bad and let the adventures continue!