The Silent Weight A Woman Carry

Hello, women out there,

How long has it been since you showed your true self to others?  

How many times have you kept your thoughts to yourself because you feared being judged?  

How many people can you count who truly know you—your choices, your preferences, your desires?

For some, you’ll be a label in a relationship. For others, a source of fun or simply a craving.  

But does anyone really know who you are?  

Has anyone ever said, *“Come, sit with me, have a cup of tea. I know you’re tired. Rest here for a few days.”*  

Even if people invite you over, how many call you just because they care for *you*, not for what you can do for them?

With each passing day, with every decision you make,  

Do you find more reasons to surprise yourself with emptiness?  

How many of you can confidently say you are still the person you’ve always been?  

As a little girl, you were told to hold back—busy learning how to sit properly, how to behave, how to blend into a crowd.  

When you hit your teenage years, you bottled up your feelings because the world was busy dominating you, making sure you didn’t “go astray.” No one understood the rush of emotions that came with growing up.  

Then comes that vibrant age—20 to 25.  

You’re hustling, proving your worth, but somehow, you lose touch with yourself.  

You’re reminded you’re “aging fast,” and to focus on what’s next.

Then, comes the knock on the door.  

It’s the age everyone talks about—marriage time.  

But with it comes rejection: *She’s too dark, too short, not qualified enough.*  

And there you were, thinking you were perfect, like a Cinderella in her fairy tale.

But reality hits hard.  

You’re told, *“You need a partner.”*  

So, you put your true self aside, again. You enter a new bond, but still feel empty.  

Then, after a few years of marriage, a new expectation arises:  

*“Have a child. Once you have a kid, all your worries will go away.”*  

But does a child complete the family? Or does it just add to the years of tiredness?  

They’ll grow up, leave for their own lives, and you’ll be left alone again.

Just like my mother, who passed away when we weren’t even around. How complete was she, really?

Here’s the truth:  

You can’t open up to your parents because of that invisible boundary of respect. You can’t say this, you can’t say that—there’s always something you have to keep to yourself.  

You can’t fully open up to friends either because, with every stage of life, friends change. That’s the reality.  

And then there’s your partner. If your sadness or emptiness comes from them or their family, how can you share without causing a fight?  

You can’t share with your in-laws—because, well, you’re the daughter-in-law.  

And as for your children—they carry your DNA, but one day they’ll be off living their own lives, far from you.

So, in the end, who really hears your emptiness?

At the end of the day, everyone needs something from you, but no one seems to be there for what *you* need.  

And that’s the hardest realization of all.