A Nourished Woman is a Free Woman

I’m just coming off a particularly lovely and peaceful Thanksgiving holiday.  It’s not always that way but for a series of unfortunate (or as it turns out, fortunate!) events, there were only 4 of us around the table  . . . and in our jammies all day long and in front of the tv watching old movies and it was pure, easeful bliss.  I was reminded of a theme that has danced throughout my conversations and heart of late – in short, my holiday was nourishing.

 

That’s a word that has been top of mind since a friend recently shared a compelling post. It was a parody about women’s dieting culture—hilarious, yes, but also deeply unsettling. It cracked open a bigger conversation, and she said something that struck me straight in the heart:

 

 

That word—nourish—has been echoing in me ever since.

 

What does it truly mean to be nourished?
And why do we, as women, so often starve ourselves of it?

 

When we hear the word nourishment, we tend to think of food, calories, or the way we feed our bodies. But there is a deeper, more essential kind of nourishment—one that determines whether we feel grounded or scattered, fulfilled or empty, alive or simply functioning.

 

Today, I want to speak to that nourishment.
The nourishment we forget.
The nourishment we postpone.
The nourishment we need in order to feel the peace we are all quietly longing for.

 

Because here is what I believe with my whole heart:
When women are nourished, they heal—not just themselves, but our world.
 

And in a culture that benefits from our depletion, nourishing ourselves becomes nothing less than rebellion.

 

There is a starvation that we normalize. Women are natural givers—and we live in a culture that celebrates, exploits, and expects that giving. We pour into our families, careers, friendships, and responsibilities until we’re scraping the bottom of our emotional, mental, and energetic reserves.

 

We postpone our needs.
We underestimate our emotions.
We silence our intuition.
We normalize the ache of emptiness.

 

But the hunger always shows up.

In burnout.
In irritability or numbness.
In loneliness.
In the quiet sense that something is missing—even when life looks “fine.”

 

This is the hunger for deeper nourishment.
For connection, rest, presence, meaning, pleasure.

And in our crusade to be “good girls” and “good women,” we starve ourselves of all of it.

 

Pause for a moment and imagine:

 

What would it feel like if you received as much care as you give?
If you were truly held, seen, cherished?
If your life included regular moments of softness, pleasure, and peace?

 

Society has all sorts of names for this—“selfish,” “indulgent,” “lazy,” “arrogant”—and these labels keep us hungry. But the truth is, we often become our own wardens. Ultimately, the permission to feel nourished has to come from us.

 

And here’s the clue:
Nourishment feels warm, gentle, generous.
It feels like an inner exhale.
It feels like being wrapped in love.
It feels like home.

 

After that conversation, I started looking closely at the ways I nourish—or don’t nourish—myself and had my own awakening . . .

 

I’ve been attending a sculpt class several times a week because, in menopause, the advice is always: weights, cardio, intensity. And every time, I dread going. I always leave feeling “accomplished” on paper, but rarely peaceful. I never walk out feeling nourished.

 

The other day, I felt pulled to something different so I skipped sculpt and went to a yoga class instead—and the contrast brought me to tears. In yoga, I felt lovingly met. Supported. Fed. It was warm and playful and the difference between punishment and nourishment was undeniable.

 

It made me ask myself:

What if I made choices based on nourishment instead of duty or expectation?
What if my body and heart got a say?
What if I allowed myself to feel fully nourished, every day?

 

I know myself: when I’m nourished, I’m more discerning, efficient, grounded, loving, curious, open, and wildly creative. I am more me. A simple act of nourishment in deciding the softness of the yoga class over the intensity of the sculpt one has rippled out into every other aspect of my world.

 

 

When we make choices from nourishment, we claim autonomy, freedom, and unconditional self-love. And imagine—just imagine—what our world might look like if women allowed themselves to be fully nourished.

 

The old systems built on our depletion would crumble.
The outdated stories would fall away.
This simple, radical act of nourishment could become one of the most powerful revolutions of our time.

But every revolution begins at home.

 

If you find yourself feeling stuck, drained, overwhelmed, or hungry for peace, let nourishment be your way forward.

Not as a luxury.
Not as a reward.
But as a birthright.
As a quiet, radical reclaiming of yourself.

 

Watch what happens when you choose nourishment, when you follow the breadcrumbs of warmth, tenderness, and peace.
Watch how your world softens and opens.
Watch how you bloom.