Even in the late ’80s (if that was your birth era, not the Gen Zs or Millennials—JK), we were raised to believe that a “good woman” never walks away.
A good woman endures.
A good woman stays, no matter what.
And walking away? That was seen as shameful.
To be honest, those lessons made sense back then. Isn’t it shameful to begin something and not finish? To give up without trying, especially with kids involved. What do you teach them—endurance or escape? I still believe in working things out. I still believe love takes effort.
Here’s what life taught me the hard way—there’s a point where stooping becomes doomed. That’s why I wrote 365 Days of Building Strength Through the Hills & Valleys of Life. It wasn’t random, and it wasn’t for show. It was survival. Still is.
Click below to check it out.
What is not a Poem – My Stooping Story 💔
I stooped… too many times to count.
I begged to be seen—not figuratively, but literally.
I begged to be assured, to be acknowledged, to be loved.
I owned up, proudly at first, then desperately, until I broke down.
I kept saying, “I’m tired,” but no one heard me.
I was told to look away, to mind my business, to endure—and I did, until I couldn’t anymore.
I wasn’t perfect either. Anger became my companion.
Yelling—my second-best friend.
Even though I’m still on this journey, I look back three years ago and remember how I shouted just to feel heard. I even confessed that unhealthy behavior to the therapist.
But the lowest of my stooping moments?
When I had to confront a whirlwind, I never imagined I’d face in that institution, when my belongings were shared without my consent. That day, I lost the little sanity I had left and tried to retrieve it with the last bit of strength in me.
You’d think that was the final straw. But even after choosing a fresh start, I heard the words that sliced through me:
“I don’t love you anymore.”
Words do hurt.
The Journey to “Unstooping”
Today, I’m learning to unstoop—to unlearn the patterns that taught me love equals endurance at all costs. I’m learning that peace is not weakness, and leaving doesn’t mean failure. Sometimes, walking away is the most courageous act of self-respect.
I’m grateful for the progress.
I’m not fully healed, but I’m not where I used to be.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
Don’t wait until you’re irreparable before you leave. Leave with your life—and with enough sanity left to rebuild.
