Tag: Maya Angelou

Personal Reflection

Life will leave its fingerprints on you — that’s inevitable. No one gets out clean. You can armor yourself all you want, but living means being touched, shaped, even scarred by change. Angelou’s words strip the myth of resilience bare. She’s not talking about bouncing back; she’s talking about bending without breaking — the kind of strength that doesn’t require applause. To be changed is to evolve; to be reduced is to surrender what makes you you.

We talk about resilience like it’s a performance — a hashtag, a brand of toughness. But real resilience is quieter. It happens when no one’s watching. It’s the night you cry on the bathroom floor and still get up in the morning. It’s realizing that pain rewires you, and sometimes, you’ll never be who you were — and maybe that’s the point. Change is inevitable; reduction is optional. There’s a difference between growth and diminishment, but when everything hurts, they can look the same. We learn early to equate vulnerability with weakness, and so we shrink. We trade authenticity for acceptance, softness for survival. But smallness doesn’t save you — it erases you. Angelou’s defiance is a warning: you can adapt without disappearing.

Maybe resilience isn’t strength in the traditional sense. Maybe it’s endurance with soul — the refusal to let your compassion rot into cynicism. It’s being able to say, Yes, I’ve been changed, but still mean it when you say, I’m here. Because wholeness isn’t about being untouched; it’s about staying human despite what touched you. The truth is, every scar, every heartbreak, every cracked place is a proof of life — not reduction, but record. And if someone ever tells you to “get over it,” tell them you’re not trying to get over it. You’re learning how to carry it without letting it crush who you are.

Reflective Prompt

What have you survived that tried to reduce you — and what part of yourself did you fight hardest to keep alive?

Personal Reflection
Normal is a cage dressed up as comfort. I’ve spent parts of my life trying to fit the mold, sanding off edges just to blend in. But the truth is, “normal” never saved me—it only shrank me. The moments I’ve felt most alive weren’t when I was acceptable, but when I was reckless enough to be myself. Maya Angelou didn’t just challenge the idea of normal, she shattered it. And maybe that’s the point: your brilliance isn’t found in what makes you blend, it’s in what makes you break the pattern.

Reflective Prompt
Where in your life have you traded authenticity for “normal”? What might happen if you stopped?