The Goldilocks Trap

I grew up watching the runts of the litter,

Get discarded first.

That was my first lesson in survival:

If you are small or weak,

You are expendable.

So I built a version of myself,

That was Indispensable,

And impossible to abandon.

I mastered emotional anesthesia,

To disconnect myself

From my chaotic landscape.

Put on a poker face,

Numbing parts of myself,

That felt too soft for the harsh terrain.

Built a steel spine,

To stand up to whatever life threw at me.

But I walked right into the Goldilocks Trap,

The narrow, shifting cage,

Where the world demands,

You be just enough,

But never too much.

For here is the catch,

The cruel, modern paradox,

The world tells you to be a powerhouse,

Then shuns you when you do become one.

They want the sweetness of the cupcake,

The warmth, the nurture,

The palatable elegance and grace,

With the precision of the razor blade,

To cut through the noise,

And get the job done.

I am expected to be sharp enough to lead,

But soft enough to be swallowed,

Without a wince.

If I am the razor, I am called "abrasive."

If I am the cupcake, I am called "too soft."

The very competence that made me discard-proof,

Is now the thing that keeps people at a distance.

It is the status-incongruity,

Of a self-made life.

I am respected for my fire,

But feared for the heat.

If I am a “boss lady”, a natural leader,"

I am penalized for not being a damsel,

Who needs a shining knight,

To hold her hand, as he walks her out of distress.

There is an unseen friction,

When you don’t need someone to save you.

Most people are not looking for a partner,

They want someone who fits,

Neatly into the gaps of their own ego,

Someone simple and easy to manage,

And my strength didn't leave many gaps,

Or a propensity to be managed.

My quiet strength became a rejection letter.

My intensity was labeled "feral,"

Simply because it didn't have a leash.

Only because I’ve stopped asking for permission to exist.

So I’ve learned to walk alone,

With my head held high,

Finding safety and sanctuary,

In the "intimidating" label.

My independence threatens those

Who are envious of my talents.

Men consider me too self-assured to mould.

My love can not fit into their domestic cup,

My waters run deep.

My energetic discernment,

Makes me allergic to shallow emotions.

I am not wary of the silence of my path.

The real weight is not solitude;

It’s the loneliness of being seen,

But not recognized.

Being misread by those

Who refuse to understand my words,

Or are committed to misconstrue it.

Who see my shield,

But refuse to acknowledge,

The heart that forged it.

I might be "too strong" for your comfort,

But I am exactly the right strength for me.

I survived the litter,

I will survive the trap, too.

I’ll learn to thrive in the “survival paradox”,

Where the skills that saved me,

Isolated me ironically.

I’ve survived all my challenging times solo,

And I shall make it through these too.

I won’t apologize for my strength,

I won’t shrink to become invisible,

Instead, I choose to evolve into the archetype,

Of the spiritual warrior and medicine woman.

Channeling my strength

To protect and heal,

Those that are now,

Like I used to be before.

Breaking the recurring pattern,

I shall carry with quiet grace,

The "Cognitive Tax"

Of the self-made woman,

And the social cost of being enough!

✍️SheHermit🪔