Victory Women’s.
So, I got this idea, right? About this “victory women’s” thing. Sounds kinda grand, I know. Wasn’t trying to start a revolution or anything. Just thought, hey, let’s see what these stories of women winning, in whatever way, actually look like up close. Not the glossy magazine stuff, but the real deal.
My plan was simple, or so I thought. I’d just reach out, talk to a few women I knew or who folks recommended, gather some stories. Maybe put ’em together in a small blog series, or a little local online showcase. Easy peasy, right? Wrong. So much harder than I figured.
First off, getting people to actually talk. You’d think women who’ve achieved something, big or small, would be eager to share. Some were, sure. But a lot? They were hesitant. Super cautious. Some felt their “victory” wasn’t big enough to count, like, “Oh, that little thing?”. Others were just plain swamped, no time. And some, well, some just didn’t want the spotlight, feared being misunderstood or judged. It was like pulling teeth sometimes, honestly.
Then, the stories themselves, if I managed to get them. I was expecting, I don’t know, straightforward tales of triumph. Like, “I had a goal, I worked my butt off, I won, the end.” But it was way messier than that. So much messier and more complicated.
- There was a lot of talk about luck, good and bad. Totally unexpected turns.
- Loads of stories about support systems, or the lack of them. Sometimes help came from the weirdest places.
- And the definition of “victory”? Man, that was all over the place. For one woman, it was finally leaving a toxic job, even with no new one lined up. For another, it was just getting through a really tough week with her kids fed and somewhat happy. That was her win.
I started this whole thing thinking I’d find these clear-cut hero narratives, you know? Like movie plots. Instead, I found a ton of grit, yeah, for sure, but also a lot of compromises, painful detours, and moments where they almost threw in the towel. The “victory” part often felt less like a big shiny finish line and more like a brief moment to just breathe before the next challenge hit them.
So, my grand idea of a neat little showcase? It kind of fizzled. Not because there weren’t stories, but because they didn’t fit into the tidy boxes I’d stupidly imagined. It wasn’t a total failure, though, not for me anyway. I learned a ton. Mostly that “victory” for women, or for anyone really, isn’t some polished trophy you put on a shelf. It’s often quiet, incredibly hard-fought, and looks totally different for every single person.
So, what did I end up doing? I scrapped the big showcase idea. Instead, I just started having more honest conversations, one on one. Listened more, talked less. Realized the “practice” for me wasn’t about collecting inspiring tales like butterflies, but about genuinely trying to understand the climb, the struggle, the real stuff. And that, in itself, felt like a small win for me, I guess. Changed how I look at things, for sure.
