Softness Is Not Weakness

Where do I still equate softness with weakness?
Am I able to stay open without bracing?

I think, subconsciously, the answer is still yes—there are parts of me that equate being soft with being unsafe.
Especially when someone’s pushing my boundaries.
Especially when they’re in a child-like, reactive state—testing limits, trying to provoke.

One moment stands out.

A neighbour came banging on my window because my dog was barking.
His dog barks all the time, and this wasn’t really about noise—it was about the way he handled it. It felt intrusive, disrespectful, and aggressive.

And I responded with,
“Yeah, fair enough. I see why you’re annoyed.”

At the time, I thought I was being weak.
Too soft. Too forgiving.
And I think he perceived it that way too—like he could do it again.
There was this sting of shame afterwards.
Like I’d lost something.
Like I didn’t stand up for myself.

But now—months later—I’m realising something deeper.

That wasn’t weakness.
That was strength.
It took a tremendous amount of inner control not to explode.
Not to lash out.
Not to mirror his aggression.

If I’m honest, my shadow wanted to crack his head open.
I wanted to shout. To scare. To make him back down.

But I didn’t.

I stayed present.
I held space.
I tried to respond with perspective—not emotion.

And even if it wasn’t the right call for him,
even if he didn’t deserve that grace,
that choice was a reflection of my strength—not a failure of it.

What I’m learning now is this:
The strength isn’t in how someone responds to the space I offer—
it’s in my capacity to offer it in the first place.

Would I do it the same way again?
Not exactly.
He’s shown he doesn’t respect that kind of opening.
And I’ve learned from that.

But my intention—to preserve the relationship, to stay grounded, to hold space for a neighbour I’ll likely share proximity with for years to come—was rooted in long-term thinking.
In emotional maturity.
In presence.

Softness didn’t mean passivity.
It meant restraint.
It meant I saw the bigger picture, even when I wanted to shrink it down to one moment of rage.

That, to me now, is strength.

And I think I’m finally learning to see how strong I’ve been—
in all the places I used to think I was weak.