I’m constantly amazed by the contrast in my desires. There are two narratives in my head of the person I’d like to become, and they couldn’t be more different. Growing up, I thought my desire to become a mother would fade, and I would focus on other passions. I was sitting at the dinner table with my dad the other day, and he asked, “What are you going to whip into shape next?”
I’m not sure I’ve ever stopped moving.
I could see myself in the corporate world or at a law office — working constantly, driven by ambition, making decisions, and embracing the thrill of success. I’d wear structured blazers, power through long days, and chase a future filled with intellectual rigor and professional accomplishment. This version of me is strong, independent, and endlessly determined. She’s someone who never shies away from a challenge, relishes in the intensity of the pursuit, and finds meaning in hard work and achievement.
But then, there’s the other version of me: the one who dreams of warmth, of laughter filling a home, of tiny hands reaching for mine. I imagine days spent raising children, nurturing them with patience and love, guiding them through the world with wisdom and tenderness. This version of me longs for a home that’s vibrant and full, where traditions are passed down, and memories are built in the quiet moments of bedtime stories and shared meals.
For a long time, I believed these two versions were mutually exclusive; I had to choose because pursuing one would mean sacrificing the other. But lately, I’ve begun to wonder: why can’t I be both? Why can’t I be a woman who commands a boardroom and still cradles a baby in her arms? Why can’t I chase my ambitions while also making space for love and family? Why does society tell us we have to choose when the reality is we contain multitudes?
Women have always lived in this tension; we’re expected to be strong but soft, ambitious but nurturing, independent but connected. We’re told motherhood is a calling and careers are a measure of success. But, rarely are we told we can pursue both without guilt or compromise. I don’t have the answers yet, and I don’t know what my future will hold, or which version of myself will take center stage. Maybe they’ll intertwine in ways I can’t yet predict. Maybe I’ll surprise myself. I do know I refuse to believe I have to be just one thing.
I’m capable of ambition and tenderness; discipline and softness; running toward my dreams while building a life rooted in love. The duality of women isn’t a contradiction; it’s a strength, and I’m learning to embrace it.