the punishment for a woman who thinks too much
on longing, self-mastery, and why being a woman often feels like a performance
A post or two ago, I talked about jealousy and self-hate. Now I’m laying in bed, scrolling through old drafts, and I stumble across this one. A gem. A mess. A time capsule of how deep my jealous streak subconsciously runs.
Reading it now, I realize I’d been intellectualizing my feelings instead of just… letting them pass. I didn’t let the emotion move through me—I froze it in place, dressed it up in self-righteousness, and called it judgment.
This draft was written from a deep wound of inadequacy. I wasn’t sitting with my misery; I was letting it fester, letting it turn into frustration—mostly with myself—and then projecting it onto other people.
Some time in January:
I’ve spent the last two months wondering what I truly wanted my life to look like. What kind of person I wanted to be. Do I want children? Do I want to be married? Would I even be good at either of those things? The answer I decided on was probably not and that it was time that I was honest with myself.
I come from a long line of women that had no obvious interest in being a mother, but desperately wanted a family. What happens when we outsource our validation to others? Women choose motherhood before they’re truly ready, so they can finally experience being wanted and needed. We don’t teach our daughters to find validation from within. We don’t teach our daughters to find empowerment from being powerful and proactive.
They say a man should completely provide for you and take care of you emotionally and financially. There’s many arguments to be made; “Love doesn’t pay the bills.” I would agree, especially as a child of such an arrangement. Possession and ownership does not make a healthy relationship, however.
At a deeper level, many women lack the motivation and foundational skills required to pursue wholehearted living. It is easier to sacrifice your autonomy, because it truly is difficult to make conscious decisions about your future. Many of us (myself included) did not have mothers that taught us these skills.
There is the looming threat of permanent loneliness if women remain un-partnered and child-free. Who will take care of you in your old age? A girl, from child to adulthood, will spend her life devoted to others. She teaches her parents how to love if they cannot and dedicates herself entirely to being the perfect vessel to hopefully receive it. To imply that old age is when a woman will finally see a return on her investment? Well, I could almost laugh out loud at the thought.
Daily life is a constant state of performance. Do I have a double chin when I tilt my head this way? Is my stomach appropriately flat? Are my smile lines bad right now? Is my under-eye creasing? Does he think I’m pretty enough? Does he think I’m smart enough? Men prefer you to be empty just enough, so they can fill the rest of your space with themselves. They want you to like what they like. Listen to them talk about what they like—even if you can’t stand it. We do these things, because god forbid, we wind up “alone.” God forbid, we don’t have to perform and live under constant surveillance. We’ve been trained to do their jobs for them, so even when we are alone we imagine ourselves being watched.
You cannot “do the work” your way into finding a partner. Self-mastery under this purpose is still male-centered. You go to the gym, pottery classes, or bookstores because you think it will bring you love. You can’t go out without a full face because What if I run into my husband?
You’re celibate, because your “man” can’t act right. You’re twenty-eight and five months into “no contact,” because you don’t have the self-respect required to leave him alone. This is why women only “get better” when they’re single and why when they’re partnered they forget about all these great hobbies they acquired.
Someone once said that limerence stifles our creativity. We see this in practically every form of female-led media.
Carrie Bradshaw is a writer obsessed with Mr. Big and her entire career is centered around men. Her pursuits are a tad anthropological, so they’re useful, but redundant. Joan Clayton, from Girlfriends, is an attorney that owns her own home in Los Angeles - yet all of her thinking is consumed with not having a partner. She’s so consumed by this that it doesn’t dawn on her until much later that she hates being an attorney. She goes on to open a restaurant and thrives creatively, but ultimately settles due to her impatience.
Think about it—you spend all your time concocting love stories in your brain about potential romances… imagine redirecting your creative energy toward yourself? Who could you be?
I’ve spent the last few months coming to a handful of conclusions:
I’m no great beauty.
It is exhausting living in a constant state of dread. Comparing myself to every woman I see. Skinnier. Prettier. Smarter. Men need women - but they don’t need me.I desire to prioritize art and creativity.
I have so much to tell the world. So many things I want to write and say. I’m obnoxious that way. Men get to spread their thoughts and feelings all over the place and we’re just supposed to listen and tell them, “Oh, you’re so smart.” I think women should also be allowed to do this more.I no longer want to live a shameful existence.
As a woman, it often feels like we are born with shame built-in. Shame about our bodies, shame for our sexuality, shame for our humanity. We’re taught shame when we need something; we’re taught it when we want something. We’ve been programmed so well that we do the system’s dirty work. We shame each other.
We’re taught that if we abandon each other, perhaps we’ll get everything we ever wanted. When we get the family and the husband, it is proof that we’re the best. When it is not quite what it seems, we get resentful. We become resentful of the women who choose themselves, because all we are now is Wife and Mother.
They cannot physically keep us in the home anymore, so they’ve structured us in a way that we continue doing their bidding. By any and all standards, you will never be enough. When you outsource your self-worth in exchange for validation, you will never be enough. If something doesn’t work out, it will always be your fault. You weren’t pretty enough, didn’t make him laugh enough, didn’t make his heart beat fast enough—put down the measuring stick.
There is no “end” to self-discovery. There is no “better you.” We don’t do the work to hopefully, one day, be complete. This level of self-mastery takes too long for a lot of women and I understand that more than you know. We place want and affection on such a large pedestal. Do you want yourself? Are you affectionate with yourself?
If you got to the end and think that I’m a jealous nobody, well, I don’t know you and I can guarantee I would not want to trade places with you. If you’re the kind of woman I described, I hope you find the peace (or at least the man) you have spent your entire life chasing. Sex is easy to come by—I could open up my phone right now and give ten examples. Friendship, compassion, and love are rarities, but so delicious when you do find it. I love my life and myself, I love feeling powerful, I love being smart and funny. I love knowing my presence and my ambition and my drive have so much to offer this world. I love knowing that I can decide these things are true and no one can steal that from me.
Parts of me will always carry these thoughts — they’re foundational, core beliefs. But here’s the truth: I talk my shit and make it seem like I’m above it, but I want love like everyone else. I want to be seen. I want to be desired. To be happy. I want to believe I deserve those things.
And maybe that’s the punishment for a woman that thinks too much: you never stop questioning, even when you already know the answer.
If this cracked something open in you, good. Me too.
💌 Find more essays like this under Girl on the Verge or Woman on the Cusp.
🌀 Start here if you’re new or just lost and spiraling gently.