Learning to Be Soft Again

Being soft has never been easy for me. I grew up in a house full of strong personalities, loud voices, hard stares, and a lot of discipline. That kind of environment taught me early on to keep my guard up. Vulnerability didn’t feel safe. Crying didn’t feel welcome. So instead of letting people see the softer side of me, I learned to toughen up and carry it all inside.

As the youngest of five, split between my mom and dad’s side with at least nine years between us, I basically grew up like an only child. My siblings were living their own lives, and I was left to figure out mine. That meant I learned to deal with my emotions on my own. No one to vent to. No one to cry with. Just me, protecting myself from feelings I didn’t always know what to do with.

And that carried over into my adult life. Relationships made me even more guarded. Every time I opened up, I felt like I had to pay the price for it. So I shut down. I convinced myself that softness wasn’t for me, that I had to stay strong, independent, untouchable. But truthfully, I’ve always craved it. I’ve always wanted to be the kind of woman who could rest, breathe, and trust without feeling like I was setting myself up for hurt.

Facing Myself

One thing I’ve realized about myself is that I can be argumentative and combative at times, not because I enjoy conflict, but because for so long I felt like I didn’t have a voice. Growing up, I didn’t always feel understood. So now, in my adult years, I speak on everything. I call everything out. I call everybody out. If something feels off, I address it. If something doesn’t sit right, I say it.

And while that’s given me a voice I didn’t have before, it’s also tiring. It’s exhausting to feel like I always have to defend myself, always have to explain, always have to be “on.” Deep down, I’ve always wanted something different. I’ve always longed for someone who could understand me without me having to say a word, someone who just gets me in the silence, when no words are exchanged.

That’s where God comes in. The more I walk with Him, the more I see that He already knows me that deeply. He understands the unspoken parts of me, the tears I don’t cry, the battles I fight internally, the exhaustion of always having to stand strong. And He gently reminds me that I don’t have to fight to be heard with Him. With God, I am already known. With God, I am already understood.

What I’m Learning

Softness isn’t weakness. It’s not being naive. It’s not letting people walk all over me. Softness is courage. It’s allowing myself to trust God enough to let down my guard. It’s choosing peace over constant defense, grace over unnecessary battles, and stillness over exhaustion.

This journey hasn’t been easy. Some days, my walls still feel safer. But I know God didn’t create me to live locked up behind them. He created me to be strong and soft, to stand firm in truth but also to rest in His love, to set boundaries but also to let His peace flow through me.

I’m learning that my healing isn’t just about protecting myself, it’s about surrendering myself to God. It’s about trusting Him to cover the spaces I once tried to guard alone.

And little by little, He’s teaching me how to walk in that softness.