Maybe you're not inconsistent

I hear women say this all the time:

"I just feel so inconsistent."

And honestly, I think we're way too hard on ourselves.

A woman will tell me she's confident at work but completely uncertain in her relationships, as if that's evidence that she's somehow doing life wrong. She'll tell me she loves being a mother but misses parts of her life before motherhood. She'll tell me she's grateful for her career but wants something more. She'll tell me she's strong, but exhausted. Ambitious, but overwhelmed. Excited about change, but terrified of it at the same time.

And somewhere along the way, she's decided those things aren't supposed to coexist.

That if she were really confident, she wouldn't doubt herself. If she were really successful, she wouldn't struggle. If she were really happy, she wouldn't want more. If she were really healed, she wouldn't still get triggered sometimes.

But that's not how human beings work.

I think part of why this resonates with me so much is because I remember believing this myself when I was younger.

Growing up, my sister and I were constantly compared. Not necessarily in a malicious way, but in the way people often compare siblings without realizing the impact.

One of us was this. One of us was that.

It often felt like there was only room for one person to be good at something. If she was the artistic one, then I wasn't. If I was the academic one, then she wasn't. If one of us was naturally talented at something, the other seemed to find a different lane.

Over time, it became so normal that I barely questioned it. If she had already claimed something, I often wouldn't even consider it for myself. It was almost automatic. There was this unspoken assumption that there couldn't be two of us who were good at the same thing, interested in the same thing, or known for the same thing.

And it wasn't just my family. I saw the same thing happen with friends too. Everyone seemed to be assigned a role. The athletic one. The funny one. The smart one. The creative one.

Looking back, it's amazing how much children absorb without anyone ever explicitly teaching it.

Nobody sat me down and told me I had to choose one lane and stay there. But somewhere along the way, I internalized the idea that people were either this or that. Strong or sensitive. Confident or uncertain. Logical or emotional.

And I think I carried that thinking into adulthood for a lot longer than I realized.

Somewhere along the way, I started believing other characteristics were mutually exclusive too:

I could be strong or sensitive.

Confident or uncertain.

Successful or struggling.

Ambitious or nurturing.

Logical or emotional.

As if being one thing automatically disqualified me from being the other.

The older I get, the more I realize how much energy women spend trying to sort themselves into categories that don't actually exist.

Because real people don't work that way.

I've never met a woman who was just one thing.

Not in my personal life. Not in my work. Not in all the years I've spent sitting across from women hearing their stories.

I've met women who are incredibly strong and deeply sensitive. Women who are brilliant leaders and still struggle with self-doubt. Women who are loving mothers and sometimes desperately need a break. Women who are wildly capable and occasionally fall apart. Women who are healing and still hurting. Women who are grateful for what they have and still want something more.

That's not inconsistency.

That's being human.

I think part of the reason so many women feel disconnected from themselves or “stuck” is because they're constantly trying to edit out the parts that don't fit the story they've created (or stories that have been created for them) about who they're supposed to be.

The ambitious woman hides how tired she is. The strong woman hides how much support she needs. The caretaker hides her resentment. The people pleaser hides her anger. The successful woman hides her uncertainty.

And after a while, you start feeling fractured because you're spending so much energy deciding which parts of yourself are allowed to be seen.

What if nothing has gone wrong?

What if you're not confused?

What if you're not inconsistent?

What if you're simply a whole person trying to squeeze yourself into a much smaller box than you were ever meant to fit inside?

I think that's why growth can feel so uncomfortable sometimes. Not because you're becoming someone else, but because you're finally allowing more of yourself to exist.

The ambitious part. The tired part. The brave part. The scared part. The playful part. The angry part. The hopeful part. The grieving part.

For a lot of women, the work isn't figuring out who they are. The work is giving themselves permission to stop choosing.

You don't have to decide whether you're strong or soft.

You don't have to decide whether you're ambitious or nurturing.

You don't have to decide whether you're a leader or someone who needs support.

You don't have to choose between being capable and being human.

The older I get, the more I think the goal isn't figuring out which version of yourself is the real one.

The goal is making room for all of them.

Because maybe you're not inconsistent at all.

Maybe you're exactly what you've always been: a complicated, evolving, contradictory, beautifully human woman who was never meant to fit neatly inside a label.

P.S. You don't have to choose between being strong and needing support. Between being ambitious and wanting rest. Between being grateful and wanting more. You were never meant to be one thing.