Not Your Momma, Not Your Therapist

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I slammed the door behind me, my heart pounding, tears streaming down my face. This was the last time I’d let him manipulate me, the last time I’d fall for his empty promises.

How many times had I heard “I’ll change” or “It’ll be different this time”? Too damn many.

I was done being his emotional punching bag, his unpaid therapist, his surrogate mother. It wasn’t my job to fix him, and I was finally ready to admit that.

For years, I’d convinced myself that my love could heal him. That if I just tried hard enough, gave enough, sacrificed enough, he’d magically transform into the man I knew he could be.

What a load of bullshit.

I’d poured my heart and soul into this relationship, thinking I could love away his trauma, his insecurities, his toxic behaviors. All I got in return was a shell of myself, drained and exhausted.

Society had sold me a lie. The idea that it’s a woman’s responsibility to “stand by her man” and help him become a better person is nothing but patriarchal garbage.

We’re conditioned from birth to be nurturers, caretakers, emotional laborers. But at what cost?

Our own dreams? Our own ambitions? Our own fucking sanity?

No more. I refuse to be a rehabilitation center for badly raised men.

It’s not my job to teach a grown-ass adult how to communicate, how to process emotions, how to be a decent human being. That’s what therapists are for.

I’m not here to be someone’s mommy, to coddle their fragile ego, to clean up their messes – literal or emotional. I’m a partner, an equal, a whole person in my own right.

If a man can’t meet me there, on equal footing, then he can take a hike. I’m done settling for potential.

I’m done with “he’s a good guy deep down” or “he just needs some guidance.” Fuck that noise.

A good guy doesn’t need a woman to excavate his goodness. It should be right there on the surface, clear as day.

I’m not a fixer-upper project, and neither should he be. We should both come to the table as fully-formed adults, ready to build something beautiful together.

But instead, so many of us waste years trying to mold men into decent partners. We exhaust ourselves trying to teach them basic life skills their parents should have instilled long ago.

We sacrifice our own growth, our own joy, our own peace of mind in the process. And for what?

For the slim chance that maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally grow up? That he’ll magically transform into the partner we deserve?

It’s a rigged game, ladies. One we’re set up to lose from the start.

So I’m calling bullshit. I’m changing the rules.

From now on, I’m investing that energy in myself. In my passions, my goals, my personal growth.

I’m done dimming my light to make insecure men feel better about themselves. I’m done shrinking to fit into someone else’s narrow view of womanhood.

I’m embracing my power, my brilliance, my fierce independence. And I’m not apologizing for it.

If that intimidates some men, so be it. Their fragility is not my problem to solve.

I’m looking for a partner who matches my energy, who challenges me to be better, who supports my dreams as fiercely as I support his. Anything less is a waste of my time.

We deserve men who are emotionally intelligent, who take responsibility for their actions, who are actively working on themselves – without needing us to hold their hands through the process.

We deserve men who see us as equals, not as mommies or therapists or emotional crutches. Men who bring as much to the table as we do.

And until we find that, we’re better off on our own. Better to be single and thriving than coupled and suffocating.

So ladies, let’s make a pact. No more rehabilitation projects. No more fixing broken men.

Let’s focus on ourselves, on becoming the badass women we’re meant to be. Let’s set the bar high and refuse to lower it for anyone.

Because we’re not saviors or saints or magical fixers. We’re women – strong, capable, magnificent women.

And it’s high time we started treating ourselves with the respect we deserve. It’s time we stopped settling for less than we’re worth.

So here’s to walking away from toxic relationships. Here’s to demanding better. Here’s to loving ourselves fiercely and unapologetically.

Because we’re not anyone’s momma or therapist. We’re partners, equals, queens. And it’s about damn time the world recognized it.

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