I grew up waiting tables.
I grew up managing everything, the money, the customers, the house, the emotions.
I grew up working when other girls were playing.
I didn’t wait for my dreams. I waited for my shift to start.
And underneath it all; I was still waiting.
Waiting to be held.
Waiting to be seen.
Waiting to be protected.
Waiting to be carried, so I could finally stop carrying everything myself.
I survived heartbreak.
I survived betrayal.
I survived hospitals, empty bank accounts, pregnancies terminated before they had names.
I survived men who wanted my body but never knew how to hold my life.
And still I waited.
I waited for rescue.
I waited for someone to make it right.
I waited for someone to choose me the way I had always longed to be chosen.
I found a good man.
I married him.
I built a home with him.
I raised children with him.
And still, I carried the load.
And still, I waited.
It wasn’t until I gave up waiting.
Until I abandoned hope entirely;
that everything changed.
I didn’t stop loving him.
He didn’t stop loving me.
But we both stopped waiting for the other to save us.
He got to work.
I got to work.
And in that space we found what had been missing all along.
Not rescue.
Not fantasy.
Not some fairytale ending.
We found structure.
Why I’m writing this for you
If I could reach my younger self;
the girl running food to customers while her heart was breaking;
I would tell her everything I am about to tell you.
But I can’t reach her anymore.
I can only reach you.
So this is for you.
For every girl who still thinks she has to wait.
For every woman who still hopes a man will make her whole.
For every heart that aches with longing;
not because it’s wrong,
but because it has been lied to.
You were trained wrong.
You were trained to think men hold the power.
You were trained to think your worth comes from being chosen.
You were trained to think love means being good enough for someone else’s orbit.
It’s not true.
Here’s the truth:
You hold the keys.
You always have.
Men orbit you.
Life orbits you.
Power flows from you.
But only if you stop waiting.
Only if you stop hoping.
Only if you stop trading your body, your love, your life for scraps of attention.
You are not dessert.
You are not decoration.
You are the space itself.
And if you anchor yourself now;
if you learn what I will teach you in these next pages;
you will never again be heartbroken for longer than two cycles.
You will never again beg a man to love you.
You will never again wonder if you are enough.
You will know you are gravity.
You will know he is orbit.
You will know you hold the frame from the first date to the last breath.
This is the real way.
No romance novel will teach you this.
No Instagram reel will show you this.
No tearful love song will sing you this.
Because power, real power, does not sell perfume or lingerie.
It doesn’t make women into desperate buyers.
It makes women into sovereigns.
That’s what I’m giving you.
And it starts now.
