The Voice in Your Head Isn’t Alone

Women have been cast in a lot of roles over time—strength, sexuality, betrayal, “misconduct,” and occasionally something to be owned or politely tolerated, rather than celebrated with the same enthusiasm we reserve for politics, religion, or dare I say… men. And yes, that category has its own category. I’m not here to debate anyone else’s experience—I can only speak from mine.

Mine has involved a long-running attempt to “blend in” in male-dominated spaces like the military and law enforcement. Picture this: show up, do the job, act like “one of the guys,” and then—plot twist—be reminded you are absolutely not one of the guys. Sometimes it’s obvious, sometimes it’s subtler, like being quietly excluded from certain conversations, outings, or spaces where women are… creatively not included. Not officially banned, of course. Just… spiritually unavailable.

Humans, as it turns out, are creatures of habit. We like what’s familiar, what feels safe, and what won’t cause a scene at the group dinner. Survival mode looks a lot like “let’s not rock the boat,” which is reasonable… until you realize the boat is doing most of the steering.

But when a woman is repeatedly shunned—or worse, physically or sexually harmed—it can create a kind of internal disconnect. The body becomes something she has to live in, but not necessarily something she feels connected to. And in trying to belong (because belonging is not optional unless you’ve reached a very enlightened, monk-in-a-cave level of existence), she may start to drift away from herself.

Because being alone with your thoughts for too long? That’s not always the peaceful spa retreat people imagine. It can feel more like your brain has decided to host a 24/7 talk show with no off button. And the guest speakers are… opinions. Loud ones. At some point, people will do almost anything to turn the volume down—including abandoning parts of themselves just to feel like they fit somewhere.

For women in systems largely built around male norms, this disconnect can become even more complicated. It’s not always dramatic or visible. It’s subtle. It’s the slow accumulation of “not quite for you,” “not quite included,” and “close enough, but not really.” Over time, that can make the body feel less like home and more like a place you’re temporarily occupying—like a rental with unclear terms and a very confusing security deposit.

Even in spaces that celebrate female beauty, the relationship can still feel a bit… fragmented. The body is acknowledged, even admired, but often from a distance—like a piece of art on a wall rather than something you fully inhabit. You’re seen, but not always fully met.

And when that happens, the challenge isn’t just about being accepted by others—it’s about staying connected to yourself in the middle of all that noise, expectations, and well-meaning (and not-so-well-meaning) commentary.