This Valentine’s Day I find myself reflecting not on romance, but on a more fundamental truth – my children have never witnessed their mother being truly loved and cared for by a partner. This realization has become a catalyst for deeper understanding, not just of my own journey, but of the collective experience I share with so many women.
Recently, my daughter called me superwoman, praising how I “do it all,” describing me as fierce and independent. Her words might sound like compliments, but they sting. These aren’t traits she’s celebrating – they’re survival mechanisms she’s witnessed because she’s never seen me in a relationship where I’m protected or supported. She’s only seen me carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
My deepest fear centers around my son. I worry he’ll search for a woman like me, thinking this is what strength looks like. But I’m not the blueprint for a healthy partnership. While my son witnesses me excel in my career, contribute to our community, and manage our home life single-handedly, he’s never seen what true partnership looks like – he’s only watched as I pour endlessly into others without receiving the same care and support in return. I want him to understand that being a man in a relationship means developing emotional intelligence, learning to lead with love and spirituality, and understanding how to truly support and uplift a partner.
In my work I have the honor of listening to the stories of countless women – CEOs and homemakers, entrepreneurs and artists, young professionals and seasoned veterans. Despite their diverse backgrounds, a common thread emerges: the deep wounds left by choosing partners who weren’t ready or willing to love them completely. I’ve held space for their stories of betrayal, emotional abandonment, giving everything only to be left empty. These women, brilliant and capable in every other aspect of their lives, share their regret of ignoring red flags, thinking they could love someone into healing, or believing that loneliness was worse than settling. Their stories aren’t isolated incidents – they’re echoes of a pattern that needs to break.
When you’re a woman whose light shines bright, this radiance often attracts those who desperately need light in their lives. I’ve painfully learned that these same people who are attracted tend to drain every drop of oil from your lantern. This Valentine’s Day, I’m making a covenant with myself: my light is not a resource to be depleted, but a gift to be cherished by those who bring their own light.
My deepest wish is for women to embrace radical self-love. I challenge women everywhere: become aware of your wounds, but don’t let them drive your choices. Love yourself so fiercely that you recognize the difference between someone who wants to bask in your light and someone who wants to claim it as their own. Acknowledge your worth beyond your productivity, your beauty beyond your appearance, your value beyond what you can do for others.
This Valentine’s Day, I’m proposing something radical: let’s make it a day of self-celebration and recommitment to our own hearts. Instead of waiting for flowers from someone else, let’s acknowledge the garden we’ve grown within ourselves. Let’s honor our resilience, celebrate our independence, and yes, even embrace our battle scars – not as badges of honor to be repeated, but as wisdom to guide us forward.