The Inherent Softness in Strength

@diannelauraphoto

I used to think my softness was the worst thing about me – something I could and should change. I thought sensitivity and strength were like oil and water - choose one and sacrifice the other. Be gentle or be powerful. Be kind or be resilient. Be open or be protected.

For a long time, I mistook armour for identity. I thought if I could make myself hard enough, the grief wouldn’t find a place to land, and the trauma wouldn’t find a way to break me. But rigidity is the precursor to shattering. What happens to things that don't bend?  

We are taught that softness is a liability - a door left unlocked for others to walk through. But I am beginning to see it as my most radical act of rebellion. To remain soft in a world that has given me every reason to harden is not a sign of defeat; it is proof that the core of who I am - the creative, internal self that has existed since the beginning - is still intact.  

I used to think my sensitivity made me fragile.  Now I understand it’s the reason people trust me to capture who they are. It’s the reason my work feels the way it does - not polished, not perfect, but more ‘emotive’ than technical. Photography is like paving a path back to myself, navigating visibility, and learning how to stand in my own skin. Seeing others helps me see a part of myself reflected back. 

Softness lets me feel. Strength lets me keep feeling, even when it’s uncomfortable. Maybe that’s the real balance: not choosing between softness and strength, but allowing both to take the wheel when necessary.

I’m learning that ebb and flow are essential to survive this industry. I don’t have to become louder, or harder, or more “look at me” than I really am. I can be soft and still be solid. I can be gentle and still be grounded. I can be quiet and still be powerful. These are the things I need to celebrate, trust, and build my business foundation on.  

I was also not expecting to experience a huge personal shift that feels unavoidable - almost necessary to even believe you can start a creative business.
That has been my experience, anyway. We are not meant to live edge to edge with tension. 

Softness becomes a boundary when it refuses to participate in hardness. It says: I will remain open, but I will not become rigid to make others comfortable. 

In allowing the “soft animal of the self,” as Mary Oliver wrote, to love what it loves. 

I’m learning that I don’t have to choose between my softness and my strength to succeed. Perhaps the real power is holding both.