The Soft Power Journal

Category: Inner Power

  • Stop Asking for Permission to Be Free

    Stop Asking for Permission to Be Free

    There comes a moment in every woman’s life when she realizes no one is coming to hand her the life she deserves. Not because she isn’t worthy of it—but because freedom isn’t handed out. It’s chosen. It’s embodied. And it’s claimed.

    And maybe that moment is now.

    Maybe you’re tired of asking for validation that never comes. Tired of softening your edges just to make others more comfortable. Tired of shrinking the parts of you that are already whole.

    You don’t need permission to be bold.

    You don’t need permission to be soft.

    You don’t need permission to be free.

    Somewhere along the line, we were conditioned to wait—to be polite, to be palatable, to stay small until someone told us it was okay to take up space. We were taught to earn rest. To earn love. To earn softness. But freedom was never something you had to earn. It’s your birthright.

    Let this be the moment you stop performing for approval.

    Let this be the moment you stop negotiating your becoming.

    Let this be the moment you stop explaining your expansion.

    You are not too much. You are not too fast. You are not too sensitive, too loud, too bold, too soft, too anything. You are just… you. And that is more than enough.

    Freedom isn’t loud, always. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it looks like logging off. Saying no. Changing your mind. Taking the long way. Not having to justify your joy.

    But always, always—freedom is yours to choose.

    So stop asking for permission to walk away.

    To do it differently.

    To change your pace.

    To rewrite the story.

    To be seen, held, and honored as you are.

    Because if you’re waiting for the world to make room for your becoming, you’ll wait forever. Make room for yourself first. The world will adjust.

    You are free.

    Not because they said so—

    But because you finally did.

  • Lessons from the Quiet Season

    Lessons from the Quiet Season

    No one really prepares you for the season when life goes quiet.

    You’re not spiraling, but you’re not soaring.

    You’re not broken, but you’re not blooming either.

    You’re just… here.

    In the space between what was and what’s coming.

    In the silence between prayers and answers.

    And at first, it’s peaceful.

    But then it gets uncomfortable.

    You start asking yourself: Am I missing something? Did I mess this up? Why isn’t anything happening?

    But I want you to know something:

    The quiet season isn’t a punishment. It’s a classroom.

    I’ve been in that season.

    When the plans stall. When the friends disappear.

    When the spark fades and the noise dims and you don’t know what to grab onto.

    And I remember thinking: God, did You forget about me?

    But He didn’t.

    He was just speaking in a language I hadn’t learned yet:

    stillness.

    Because in the quiet, everything echoes louder—your doubts, your desires, your truth.

    And if you listen closely, you’ll realize:

    The quiet doesn’t mean nothing’s happening. It means something sacred is.

    Here’s what the quiet season teaches you—if you let it:

    1. Who are you when no one’s clapping?

    When no one’s validating you. When there’s no audience, no applause, no obvious results.

    Can you still show up for yourself?

    2. Can you hear your own voice beneath the noise?

    The quiet strips away distractions.

    It asks you to tune back into you—your needs, your values, your spirit.

    3. Not everything that slows you down is a setback.

    Sometimes, it’s divine pacing.

    Sometimes, it’s protection disguised as a pause.

    So if you’re in the quiet season right now, try this:

    Create a “Stillness Practice.”

    Each morning or night, ask yourself: What do I need to hear today?

    Write down whatever comes up. It doesn’t have to make sense. Let your spirit speak.

    Start noticing what’s growing instead of what’s missing.

    Maybe your patience.

    Maybe your trust.

    Maybe your emotional capacity.

    Reframe the silence.

    Instead of “Nothing is happening,” try: “I’m being refined in ways I can’t see yet.”

    There is something beautiful being built inside the silence.

    This season is not wasted.

    This season is not void.

    It is an altar. It is a cocoon.

    It is the quiet before your bloom.

    So breathe.

    Take the pressure off.

    And remember:

    Sometimes the most powerful things grow in silence first.

  • The Soft Power Strategy of Stillness: Why Not Reacting is Sometimes Your Loudest Move

    The Soft Power Strategy of Stillness: Why Not Reacting is Sometimes Your Loudest Move

    There are moments where silence holds more weight than any speech, more power than any comeback. I didn’t always understand that. I used to think that if I didn’t speak up immediately, I was weak. If I didn’t defend myself, I was letting them win. If I didn’t react, I didn’t care. But I’ve learned that stillness isn’t the absence of power—it’s the mastering of it.

    There was a version of me who couldn’t let anything slide. Who had to explain, defend, fix, over-express, over-explain, overextend. I gave away so much of my energy trying to control how I was perceived, trying to make sure people understood me, trying to avoid being misunderstood. But it cost me peace. And it cost me presence. I was so busy reacting that I couldn’t feel the calm that existed in simply letting things be.

    Stillness is strategy. And for women—especially women who have had to be in survival mode—it’s a reclaiming of something sacred. Because we’ve been taught to always do. Always say something. Always be productive. Always respond. Always fix it. Always manage everyone’s emotions. But what happens when you stop? When you choose to be still, even when it burns?

    I remember a recent situation where someone tried to bait me into a reaction. They wanted to provoke me, twist my words, pull me into chaos. And for a moment, I almost let it work. The old me—the version that needed to prove her worth—was about to come out swinging. But something in me paused. I took a breath. And I said nothing. Not because I was weak. But because I knew I didn’t owe them access to my energy.

    Stillness, in that moment, was strength. It was a declaration. A boundary. A line in the sand that said: I don’t move unless I choose to. I don’t explain myself to people committed to misunderstanding me. I don’t play games in a space I’ve outgrown. I don’t chase clarity where chaos lives.

    The feminine in me knew better. She knew that power doesn’t always come with sound. Sometimes, it comes in silence. Sometimes, the softest thing you can do is also the most radical. To say nothing, to walk away, to remain unmoved—not because you don’t feel anything, but because you finally trust yourself enough to hold what you’re feeling with grace.

    Stillness isn’t passive. It’s powerful. It’s the space where you choose yourself over the need to be right. It’s where you release control, not because you’ve given up, but because you’ve risen above. It’s where you remember that not everything deserves a response, and not everyone deserves a seat at your table.

    It’s in that space—between the trigger and the response—that we reclaim our soft power. That we remind ourselves we are not puppets pulled by strings of emotion or insecurity. We are the string-cutters. The pattern-breakers. The peace-holders. And that means knowing when to speak and when to stay still.

    There will always be noise. Always be drama. Always be people who try to test your growth. But you don’t have to take the bait. You don’t have to prove how far you’ve come. Let your peace do the talking. Let your energy be too expensive for nonsense. Let your stillness become your softest—and strongest—move yet.

    With love-

    Evelyn