The Women We Come From

Sometimes we grieve not only the women we've lost, but also the relationships we never got to experience. In this talk, we reflect on the women who came before us, the patterns they left behind, and the complicated grief of loving them while acknowledging what was missing.
From people-pleasing and survival to the longing for genuine sisterhood, this is an honest conversation about honoring where we come from while choosing something different for ourselves.

Transcript

Hello, Beautiful hearts, And welcome to Soft Hearts Rising. I'm Alonia, And I'm so glad you're here. This is a space for honest conversations about womanhood, Life, Relationships, Grief, Healing, And all the things that we carry as women. Some days we'll talk about the beautiful parts of life. Other days, We'll talk about the complicated parts of our lives, The things that hurt, The things we're still figuring out, And the things we don't always feel comfortable saying out loud. I'm not here because I have everything figured out. Believe me, I don't. I'm here to share my experiences, My reflections, And the things that I am learning along the way. And maybe somewhere in these conversations, You'll hear a little bit of your own story too. So wherever you're listening from, I'm glad we're spending this time together. Now, Let's talk about what's been on my heart. The women we come from. I've been sitting with something lately, Which is grief, But not just the kind of grief that comes when somebody dies. I'm talking about another kind of grief, The kind that comes when you look back at the women in your family, The women you come from and realize how much was missing. Most of the women who came before me are gone. Now, And I miss them. But I've also been thinking about the things I did not receive from them, The relationships we did not get to have, The women they might have been if their lives had been different. And the women I needed them to be for me. That's a hard thing to say out loud because when we talk about our ancestors, Especially the women, We tend to talk about how strong they were, How they survived, How they made a way out of no way, How they managed to hold everything together. And I know that strength deserves our recognition, Right? But I've been wondering lately whether we have spent so much time celebrating their ability to survive that we haven't really taken the time and talked about what that survival cost them or what it cost the women who came before them. Because when I look back, I don't just see strength. I see women who were surviving. I see women who may not have known how to be vulnerable. And I see women who struggled to be authentic. Women who did not necessarily have genuine sisterhood with one another. And I see patterns. I see people pleasing, Jealousy, Backbiting, Talking about one another Instead of talking to one another, Greed, Competition, Keeping up appearances, And sometimes relationships where everybody was connected by family. But that didn't necessarily mean everybody felt loved, Supported, Or safe being themselves. I think about that a lot because what does it mean to come from women who knew how to survive, But didn't always know how to nurture one another. What does that teach the little girls watching them? And what does that teach us about being women? And how much of it do we carry into our own relationships without even realizing it? I don't ask those questions because I think I'm better than the women who came before me. I'm not. And I don't ask them because I want to judge women whose whole stories that I may never even know. I understand that life was different for many of them. Their choices may have been limited. Their circumstances may have demanded things of them that I can only imagine. But understanding that does not mean I have to pretend everything was beautiful. It doesn't mean I have to call something healthy simply because it was familiar and it doesn't mean I have to continue living that way. That's something I have been coming to terms with lately. I can honor the women I come from and still tell the truth about what I was missing. I can love them and acknowledge that some of the things they modeled hurt. I can miss them and I can still wish things had been different and I think that's where some of my grief lives, Not only in their absence but in the relationships we never got to experience. I wish there had been more genuine sisterhood, More honesty, More women celebrating one another without comparison. More room for somebody to say I'm hurting without worrying that her vulnerability would become somebody else's conversation. More women who could disagree without turning against one another. More acceptance, More authenticity, More love without conditions attached. I wish there had been more room for for women to simply just be women, Not just mothers or wives or caretakers or the strong ones that everybody depended on, Right? Just women, Women who could admit they were tired, Women who could make mistakes, Women who could have dreams of their own, Who could support another woman's happiness without feeling that it somehow diminished theirs. And I think about what it might have meant to, And for me, To grow up surrounded by more of that. What would I have learned differently about friendships, About trust, About belonging, About my onward. I don't know. And that's part of the grief too, Not knowing, Because I can't go back and change those relationships. I can't go back and give those women something that they did not have. And with so many of them gone, There are conversations that will never happen for me. Questions I may never get to ask, Things I may never understand. And I have to make peace with the fact that some of those stories will remain unfinished. But here's something else I've been thinking about also. I don't want those patterns to be the only thing I carry forward. I don't want to spend my life surrounded by women and still feel alone. I don't want relationships where we smile in one another's faces, But can't speak honestly when something is wrong. I don't want to mistake obligation for love, Or even history for trust, Related for being close. I want something different. I want genuine sisterhood. And I don't mean the kind where everybody agrees all the time, Where nothing uncomfortable is ever said or where we pretend that nobody has flaws because we all have flaws. I mean the kind where women can be honest with one another and still be loving, Where we celebrate one another, Where we can have difficult conversations without trying to hurt each other, Where there is room for individuality, Where somebody else's success doesn't threaten our own, Where we don't have to perform strength all the time, Where we can be soft without making somebody else's softness for weakness or mistaking their softness for weakness. That's the kind of sisterhood that I want and I've really I realized that I may have to create some of what I wished I had inherited. Not because I should have to do something in everything alone, Right? But because I've done enough of that. Because I can make different choices about the relationships I welcome into my life. And that doesn't mean that it is easy. Finding your people as an adult be difficult, Especially when you've experienced disappointment in relationships, Especially when you have spent years being the one who gives, The one who understands, The one who keeps things together. Sometimes you have to learn what it feels like to be on the receiving end of care also. And sometimes you have to recognize that being needed isn't the same thing as being loved. And sometimes you have to allow yourself to be disappointed about what you didn't have before you can really begin to imagine what you want now. I'm still thinking about all of that. That's a lot, Right? I'm still learning what genuine sisterhood looks like for me. And I have to be willing to look at myself too, Because recognizing patterns in women before me doesn't automatically mean those patterns stop with me. I have to pay attention to how I respond when I'm hurt. How I communicate when I'm disappointed, Whether I'm allowing people to know the real me or not, Whether I'm making room for the kind of honesty and care I say I want. That's part of choosing something different, And I don't expect to do it perfectly. I don't think any of us will, But I do think that we can be intentional. We can decide that the things we wish don't have to become the things that we repeat. We can choose not to participate in conversations that tear other women down. We can choose honesty over appearances and we can stop sacrificing ourselves just to keep relationships that leave us feeling unseen, Unheard. And we can begin to make room for people who want to know us, Not just what we can do for them. I think about the women who will come after us too. What will they remember? What would they say about the women that we were? Will they remember us as women who were always strong or Will they remember that we laughed, That we had friendships? That we knew how to apologize to one another, That we knew how to love without controlling. That we gave one another room to grow. I hope it's some of those things. I hope the women who come after us inherit more than just survival. I hope they inherit examples of genuine love, Of friendship, Of women who are comfortable being themselves, Of women who know that they don't have to compete to belong. And when I think about the women I come from, I still want them to remember, And I mean, I still want to remember them. I want to remember their stories. I want to honor the lives that they lived. But I also want to be honest about my grief because I grieve for the women they were not able to be. And I grieve for the relationships that we could not have. I grieve for the sisterhood that may never have existed in the ways I needed it to. And I grieve for the parts of themselves they may have never gotten to discover like I have. I don't know what their lives would have looked like if they'd had more choices, More support, Or more opportunities to experience something besides just survival. I'll never know. But one thing I do know, I don't want to spend my own life only surviving. And I don't want to wait until another generation is looking back, Wondering whether I ever got the chance to really live. So I'm trying to make room for something different, For softness, For honesty, For relationships that do not require me to abandon myself. And for women, Who can sit together without competition or pretense, For friendships where we can genuinely be happy for one another, For the kind of sisterhood I've wanted for a long time. Maybe some of you listening know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe you love the women you come from, But you also carry some complicated feelings about them as well. Maybe you're grieving a mother, A grandmother, An aunt, Or a sister. Or maybe you're grieving a relationship you always wanted with someone who is still there. I think there's room for all of it. We don't have to turn the women who came before us into saints to honor them. And we don't have to erase the good in them to acknowledge the hurt. Both can be true. I'm learning to let both be true. And maybe in doing that, I can remember them without feeling obligated to become them. I can love where I come from while choosing how I want to live. And I can keep looking for my people, The women with whom I can simply be myself. The women who understand that sisterhood isn't about perfection. It's about honesty, Compassion, And genuinely showing up for one another. I think I deserve that. I think we all do. And that's what's been on my heart lately. Before I go, I want to leave you with a few questions. When you think about the women you come from, What comes up for you? Is it gratitude? Grief? Love? Disappointment? Maybe a little bit of everything. And what about sisterhood? Have you found women that you can genuinely be yourself with? Women who celebrate you, Support you, And allow you to show up just as you are. Or are you like me, Still discovering what the kind of sisterhood looks like? I really love to hear your thoughts and I love to hear about your experiences too, Because I know I'm not the only woman who has carried some of those feelings. Thank you for spending this time with me. Thank you for listening and for making space for these conversations. Until next time, Stay soft, Stay rooted, And keep rising.

Reviews

Wonderful talk on topics I think of sooo often.. I won’t be able to articulate all it touches on, but for me, elements of compassion (for others and self) and it contributed to me finding groundedness /self energy/ inspiration today.. Feeling gratefulness around that and you.🙏 🧡🌸🐝