Real Strength Is Presence
July 26, 2025
A reflection on what real strength looks like—beyond dominance, defence, or noise.
For most of my life, I think I misunderstood what strength really meant.
I thought it was about being unshakeable, unfazed, in control.
I thought it had something to do with dominance, or maybe even stoicism.
But I’m realising now—real strength is presence.
Not just being “in the room,” but actually being here. With myself. With others. With what is.
What Presence Requires
Presence isn’t a passive thing. It’s not just sitting still or not reacting.
It’s deep, grounded, layered work. It means:
- Emotional regulation – the ability to stay with discomfort without numbing, fleeing, or exploding.
- Empathy – the capacity to attune to another’s emotional world without becoming overwhelmed by it.
- Openness – not rushing to judge or fix, but allowing reality to unfold and be witnessed.
- Accountability – owning how I show up in a space, even when I’m uncomfortable or triggered.
- Responsibility – acting in alignment with my values, even when it would be easier not to.
And that last one’s important.
Because the more present I am, the more conscious I become of the gap between reaction and response. And that’s where real power lives.
Presence Isn’t Gendered
At first, I felt like I was naming something “masculine”—responsibility, regulation, stillness.
But I know now: presence is not a gendered quality.
It draws from both:
- The masculine stillness, clarity, and containment.
- The feminine receptivity, attunement, and openness.
It’s not about strength as performance. It’s about strength as rootedness.
The Evidence Is in How I Now Choose to Respond
- When someone tries to intimidate me, I don’t escalate or submit. I just step back. Or I say something disarming. Or I leave.
- When people lie, deny, or rewrite reality, I don’t argue. I just let them be wrong.
- When I’m triggered, I try to pause and check what part of me is activated, rather than letting it drive the car.
I don’t fight people anymore.
I don’t need to prove myself.
I just stay present—with what I know, with what I feel, and with what matters.
This Kind of Strength Is Rare
It’s not celebrated.
It’s not loud.
It’s not always even noticed.
But it changes everything.
Because the more time I spend in presence, the less time I spend trying to escape.
And when I’m not escaping, I can live in alignment. I can act with clarity. I can respond with compassion.
And I can return to myself, again and again.
This is the kind of strength I want to build my life on.
Not the kind that dominates.
The kind that stays.