The Crossroads

I was going through some of my old journals last night. I always say I’ve lived a lot of lives, but gawt damn… flipping through those pages made me realize just how many. All these different versions of myself staring back at me in the form of different color ink and even different styles of penmanship. I’ve grown a lot, I can tell you that much.

One journal in particular I’ve decided I’m going to burn.

It was from the year I turned 27 and the entire journal was filled with nothing but pain, anger, and sorrows. It went back and forth between some friends I used to have — or rather, who I was a friend to but they weren’t friends to me at all — and the man I was involved with at the time.

As I sat on the floor in my closet, reading my words, I felt incredibly sad for the girl I used to be fourteen years ago, but also so far removed from her. I found myself tracing the writing on the paper with my fingertips, almost in disbelief. Like… that was me? Crying over people, especially a man, who treated me so fucking poorly? Who betrayed me over and over again, and I stuck around for that? Really? Sigh.

And then it made me think of all the women we see on a daily basis, venting (crying) on social media, all the stories we hear from women that start with “he…” followed by something that broke their hearts or ruined their lives, and all the women who have sat across from me in my Zoom office, who sought me out because they were who I used to be.

You know, I’ve been through a lot, put myself through a lot, seen a lot, and have learned a whole lot throughout the years, and I’ve realized that so many of our problems as women come from having low-ass standards. Truly. So many of our woes tie right back to that. It’s the common denominator.

Too many of us have spent a ridiculous amount of our lives believing that the more giving, palatable, accessible, accommodating we are — surely we’ll be rewarded, right? We’ll get the love from men, the genuine sisterhood from women, the kindness, care, respect… the reciprocity we crave.

So we've accepted people who showed us time and time again that they didn’t have the capacity, or sometimes even simply the want to do right by us. We forgave them, gave them unlimited chances, made excuses for them, even lied to ourselves about who they were and their intentions for us. In other words, we kept our standards for who got access to us hella low to make it easier for people to do the bare minimum.

And sometimes they couldn’t even do that. Imagine.

I picked up another journal. It was from the year I turned 29.

I had started titling my journals that year once I had completed them. This one was titled Crossroads and as I flipped through the pages, this time I smiled.

It begins with super messy, stressed out penmanship in red ink. Lots of question marks on every page. On one page I had literally drawn a crossroads.

Up one road I had written “Low standards = people = pain and suffering”. Up the other road I had written “Higher standards = lonelier travels = peace though?”

Then there was a stick figure drawing of me standing in the middle. (Don't judge me. I can’t draw to save my life, so I did my best.)

Then towards the middle my penmanship starts to get cleaner and I’m using blue ink. I know myself. The cleaner my writing is, the more grounded I am. There are still question marks scattered around, but not as many.

Towards the end the ink is black and there are no more question marks in sight. I’m writing about happy, peaceful, creative things. Changes I started making within myself that, as a result, started to change my entire life.

On the very last page of that I had written: having low standards has never gotten a woman what she actually wanted out of this thing called life. I’ve learned my lessons through me, and through watching so many women around me. Raising my bar wasn’t easy, and at times, it still isn’t… but it’s gotten easier. Especially considering that ever since I did it, I’ve been getting to have more experiences that I want than don’t want.

So, onwards and upwards. Full steam ahead. Everything starts, ends, and continues with me. Right? Right. Good talk. I'm going to go continue being great now.

I closed that journal and just sat there for a bit.

29-year-old me is the reason I am the woman I am today. She’s the one who decided the buck was ending with her. She’s the one who got the inner work train rolling. She’s the reason I can teach other women in the ways I can today.

I’m so incredibly grateful for her.

I guess I’m writing this because every day I sit with women who are standing at the same crossroad I once did. And there’s a good chance you’re reading this while standing at that same road too.

I want you to know that while choosing the path less traveled is hella hard, and the minute you step on it, you will be tried and tested, and it will make you want to turn around and go backwards — if you can just keep going, just see yourself through this journey, it will all be worth it. You will look back one day and be overwhelmed with gratitude for the version of you who decided the buck was ending with her.

Having low standards has never gotten a woman what she actually wanted out of this thing called life.

Just... always remember that. Okay?

XO,

Cynthia

To Audit Your Dating Patterns click here.

To work with me 1:1 click here.