Women In Progress (WIP)
"I am a human being, meant to be in perpetual becoming. If I am living bravely, my entire life will become a million deaths and rebirths."
– Glennon Doyle
I have a confession.
I started Women's Month planning to write something polished. A proper opening post. Something that felt finished and confident and, you know, appropriately celebratory.
And then I sat down to write it and what came out instead was this: I am still figuring so much out.
Not in a crisis way. Not in a everything-is-falling-apart way. In the quiet, ongoing, honestly-quite-humbling way that I think is just the reality of being a person who is paying attention to her own life.
I am still learning how to ask for help without apologizing for needing it.
Still learning how to receive a compliment without immediately deflecting it.
Still learning, after all these years of teaching other people about boundaries, how to hold my own without the guilt arriving about thirty seconds later.
I am, in the truest sense, a work in progress.
And I have decided that this is the most honest way I can start Women's Month.
Not with a highlight reel. Not with a list of things I've achieved or figured out or finally got right. With this: I am mid-sentence. Mid-effort. Mid-becoming.
And I am starting to think that the mid is not the problem. The mid might actually be the whole point.
Here's what I notice about the women I work with.
The ones who are the most alive, the most interesting, the most genuinely magnetic in a room, are not the ones who have arrived somewhere. They're the ones who are clearly still on their way. Who are curious about things they don't yet understand. Who can say "I got that wrong" without it levelling them. Who are building something, trying something, becoming something, and have stopped waiting until it's finished to let themselves feel good about it.
They are works in progress. And they are extraordinary precisely because of it.
We have this story about women and progress that I think does a lot of damage.
The story goes: you work hard, you improve, you arrive, and then you are allowed to feel proud. The pride is the reward at the end. Something you earn when the work is done and the result is in and the version of you that is finally good enough is standing there ready to be seen.
But the work is never done. The result is never fully in. The finished version never quite arrives. So the pride keeps getting deferred. Kept in a drawer for later. For when things are more settled, more sorted, more certain.
Later never comes. And in the meantime an entire life is being lived by a woman who is doing remarkable things but hasn't given herself permission to feel remarkable because she is still, always, not quite there yet. I want to offer a different story for this month.
What if the progress is the thing worth celebrating?
Not the destination. The fact of moving. The courage of still trying. The specific kind of bravery it takes to keep becoming when it would be so much easier to just stop.
What if WIP is not an apology for being unfinished but a description of someone who is alive and growing and honest enough to say so?
Because I look at the women in my life and in my work and what I see is not a collection of finished products. I see women who are learning and stumbling and figuring it out and getting up and trying differently and laughing about it when they can and crying about it when they need to.
I see women who are, all of them, gloriously mid-sentence.
And I find that so much more beautiful than any arrival could be.
This month I want to spend four Tuesdays in that space. Talking honestly about the things women carry, the things we need, the things that cost us and the things that restore us. Not with answers, exactly. More like a conversation between women who are all, in one way or another, still figuring it out.
Because that is what Women's Month actually means to me. Not a celebration of how far we've come, though we have come so far.
A celebration of the woman who is still on her way. Who is tired sometimes and uncertain sometimes and quietly magnificent all the time, whether she knows it or not.
That woman is you.
Welcome to March. I'm really glad you're here. 🌿
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Each product reflects a simple truth: love grows when it’s practiced.
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