She couldn’t remember how she got here; it was like her heart had stopped. She sat on the floor, broken and alone. Tears streamed down her face, like strands of pain itself, silent but full of weight. It seemed as if the entire world had turned against her; maybe it was her fault. It seemed that she had repelled everyone with her repulsive behaviour, which had become so typical of her lately. Fits of anger were much more frequent in her life. Harsh words rose to the surface like lava, slowly burning everything around her. Everything she cared about seemed to be buried under her anger. Her shame and outbursts clung to everything around her like volcanic ash.
No one understood her, and no one could comprehend the weight of the world that this fragile woman carried on her shoulders. Perhaps she didn’t even understand herself. What was causing such anger, why her nights were sleepless, and what torments she had to face every day? So much repressed pain was rotting inside her soul. That pain had once been what drove her forward; it had been her dynamo on the road to success, to her dreams and goals. What had happened that her inner weakness was no longer her strength but something that was devouring her alive?
She longed to understand it. She hated herself, and the anger towards herself was destroying her from the inside. That rage accumulated and grew stronger with each passing day. She despised herself for her past, for all the suffering she had forced herself to endure, for all the pain that others had caused her. She despised herself for her kindness, for her trust, and for her vulnerability. She wanted so badly to go back and prevent it all, but she couldn’t. She had to live with all of it, and instead of letting it hurt her, she once decided to take all that pain and transform it into something magical, something beneficial.
But she didn’t realise that she was only running away, which wasn’t a healthy decision. She buried all that darkness deep inside herself instead of ridding herself of the suffering, and while she naively believed she had won, in the depths of her soul, a monster was slowly forming, waiting to be set free. Every time it showed its horns, she pushed it back with the hope of victory and a sense of strength. Until one day, the beast outsmarted her. It was bigger than ever before, brighter and tougher, and it used all her weaknesses against her.
The pain inside her took on a form she didn’t recognise. It intertwined with her personality and began to hurt not only her but everyone around her. She realised she had to do something about it, and she gathered all her remaining strength as the anger slowly left her. She stood up, rose from the ground, and took a deep breath. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and felt as if someone else was staring back at her. It wasn’t her! She didn’t look the way she used to—she looked like a wreck. Her disheveled, long golden hair covering her face, she pushed it back. Her swollen, tear-stained eyes held a plea for help. The wrinkles were more pronounced than ever.
She stared at her reddened reflection in the mirror, and everything inside her screamed, “Enough!” In one motion, she wiped the tears from her face, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath until she felt oxygen in the tips of her fingers. She clenched her fists and tightened her grip. She gathered all her resilience and took a deep breath. Her chest rose with the inhale, and her body posture changed. From a hunched girl, she became a woman with a confident stance. She clenched her jaw until she felt pressure between her teeth, and then, with one swift motion, she opened her previously tightly shut eyes. Her gaze was now different—full of determination, strength, and self-control. She finally began to recognise the reflection in the mirror, which once again vaguely resembled the woman she used to be, the one she knew. The nourishment for her soul was no longer self-pity but desire.
She moved to the sink to wash her face with cold water. As if, along with the tears, she had washed away all the troubles that had kept her on the floor just moments earlier. “How did all the women before her manage?” she thought. Were they more unwavering than her? More resilient, more eager? Why was she falling apart at the very moment she needed to be as strong as a diamond?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice: “What’s wrong with you, Mom? Is it my fault?” Her throat tightened, and the room fell into a deathly silence. You could hear a pin drop. She didn’t want to admit that she couldn’t handle it, that deep down she was too unhappy, that she had too much weight on her shoulders—perhaps their burdens were heavier than she was willing to admit to herself.
Her lips parted, and with a deep breath, she let the words flow into the silence: “Of course, it’s not your fault, sweetheart!” She was sure of her words, knowing it was within herself and no one else. The self-blame of that tiny creature was tearing her soul apart. She was conflicted; she never wanted to hurt him. She forced a smile and fell to her knees before the most precious thing she had in life. She looked deeply into those big, radiant eyes that were hungry for love. She pulled the small body close until she could feel its heartbeat and held it tightly in her arms. Her love for that little being was more potent than the beast she carried inside her.
So why couldn’t she control herself? Why did she get angry at that little person for such insignificant things? The foundation was rotten and decaying. She was crumbling under the pressure of perfection, the past she had never dealt with. In the moment when she had turned all the bad things inside her into her strength, she had become her own worst enemy. An isolated woman, yet a warrior of this century. She was both father and mother, judge and the accused, housekeeper and lady of the house, provider and dependent.
She eagerly worked on her dreams, on their future together, until she forgot that she was just a woman, just a human. She forgot that even she wasn’t an omnipotent being. And so she knelt there, clutching her jewel, drawing strength for the next fight.
She grew more determined, sturdier, and braver with every passing minute. With every breath, she won her battle against the beast inside her. She wasn’t just a woman; she was a warrior. A woman of the 21st century, carrying the burdens of both the past and the present. While earlier generations had clearly defined roles in the household, much more was expected of today’s women. She had to be not only a mother and caretaker but also a career woman, a friend, an athlete with hobbies and interests, and an educated and strong personality. All these unrealistic expectations were bringing her to her knees. In the pursuit of perfection, she was losing herself, losing control and awareness of herself.
She often forgot what was truly important, who she was supposed to be, not who others expected her to be. She slowly came to realise that she didn’t have to be perfect in every way, that it wasn’t essential to be everything and nothing. She came to the realisation that happiness is a fickle thing, and the art of living in the moment is priceless. She felt how the laughter and the tiny footsteps in the apartment shook her entire being, and how pleasant the sound of laughter was compared to the shouting and tears. It took her a long time to find the awareness and the ability to accept that not everything could be controlled. Through hard work intertwined with passion, she was slowly finding that lost balance.
She was a woman who fought for her own balance and stability, a woman who realised that her strength wasn’t in perfection but in the courage to face the challenges life threw at her. She became more determined, stronger, and braver with every passing minute. With every breath, she won the battle against the beast inside her. She wasn’t just a woman; she was a warrior—a woman of the 21st century.
-Anna Rajmon
Related Posts
