Women, Authority, and My Reality

I noticed something strange the other day. My manager at Bernardo’s — someone I really respect — casually said, “It’s Friday,” and I believed her instantly. Without checking. Without thinking. Even though I knew it was Thursday. My whole sense of certainty just collapsed.

And it wasn’t the first time.

She did it again later that week, and something in me pushed back. Not outwardly. Just internally. I paused. I checked. I realized — no, it’s Wednesday. And this tiny moment made something in me stir.

Why did I default to her reality over mine?

I don’t think she meant anything by it. In fact, part of me wonders if she did know — if she was subtly noticing where my triggers live, how quick I am to surrender my perception when I feel someone has power over me. Because she’s been open. And kind. And honest. And I feel her love — not in a romantic way, just as mutual recognition. Like we see each other.

It reminded me of something else. A moment with my tutor. She made a casual comment — “It’s a bit odd to check your watch for your energy.” And instead of laughing or brushing it off, I defended myself. Explained myself. I told her it was training wheels. That I’ve had trouble feeling my feelings. That I’m learning.

But I didn’t need to do that. Not really.

What I’m seeing is this: when I’m around women I perceive to be in power, something ancient gets triggered. I default to their version of reality. I abandon my own truth. And I feel the need to justify even the gentlest things — as if being misunderstood is somehow dangerous.

That’s not about them.

It’s about what was modeled for me. It’s about the subtle, slow erosion of self-trust over years of walking on eggshells. Years of needing someone else’s approval to feel safe.

And what’s beautiful — what’s healing — is that I think these women see it. I think they know. And they’re not reacting. They’re not punishing me for it. They’re just… witnessing. Holding the space.

It’s giving me space to notice it too.

And maybe next time I’ll pause and say, “Yeah, it is a little odd.”
And not feel the need to explain it away.

Maybe this is how healing actually happens — not through grand revelations, but in tiny moments where we stay in our own body and let our truth stay standing.