Not long ago, women were expected to fulfill rigid standards of being a “good” woman: dutiful wife, devoted mother, obedient daughter. In a world where societal norms and others’ opinions defined a woman’s worth, conforming felt like the most natural thing. After all, society survives through sameness, through people fitting into roles.
Today, we’re lucky to live in different times. We can choose how we dress, who we love, how we earn, and how we live. Life has opened up spaces that used to be off-limits to women. The once “normed” woman has become the modern woman, one who, paradoxically, is now expected to handle even more, aided by technology and pressure alike.
Yes, we have choices now. But does that mean life has actually become easier? I asked myself this often while still living what I now call a “male lifestyle.” What did emancipation really give us if we just moved from one box: home and children, into another: career and constant striving? Both still ask us to adjust, to perform, to play by rules we didn’t write.
I was around 32 when I reached a big career milestone. I got the promotion I had worked so hard for, and I was surprised by how little it meant. No joy, no lasting fulfillment, just the quiet realization that I had become hard, assertive, and goal-driven. I had shaped myself around women who prioritized success over softness, and I realized the image I had built of myself was no longer mine. It was painted in someone else’s colors.
I knew I needed to change. But where do you start when your whole life has been shaped by ideals that don’t resonate anymore? By chance, I watched a TV program about a woman in Russia who was teaching women how to reclaim their femininity. These were successful, strong women, just like me, who had lost their softness. And I thought, I want that too. I had buried my feminine side for years, and suddenly, I was ready to let her back in.
That turning point came as I moved back to my home country, Poland, where traditional gender roles were still more visible. It was easier there to tap into my feminine energy. But femininity isn’t about how you look, it’s about how you are. It’s about slowing down, softening, being. Letting others play a role in your life without assigning every part. It’s about letting go of control and learning to trust your own rhythm: your intuition, your feelings, your heart.
I started building my life around meaningful relationships instead of strategic ones. My interest in people deepened, and with it, my emotional capacity. I noticed I was moving away from people who only liked me when I was convenient, but shied away from my emotional depth. I started listening to my own natural rhythm and diving into my creative nature. I began hearing that small voice inside, the one I had ignored for so long. And I became louder, less filtered, less polished. I felt more like me.
I spent most of my 30s living in this feminine space, and in that time, I did things I can barely believe now. Why? Because I trusted life. I surrendered. I let my intuition lead. I walked away from artificial control (like birth control) and returned to the cyclical, raw rhythm of my body. I learned how to ride emotional waves instead of fearing them. Reclaiming my wild feminine nature was the most loving thing I could do for myself.
Looking back, that phase of my life was about becoming the woman I was always meant to be. It was about healing, maturing, rediscovering my essence, and finally letting go of being the “good girl.” When a woman speaks her truth, she becomes a threat to those who don’t. Reclaiming my power and stepping away from the comfort of other people’s expectations came with a cost. But when external validation stops mattering and you let your true voice take the lead, you understand something profound:
Being liked is optional.
Being valued is everything.
In a world where everyone wants to go viral, I chose to be real.
my beatitude 
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