Jessi's Safe Space

  A weak man will never know what to do with a strong woman. He’ll say she’s “too much,” when in reality, she’s just too real. She’ll speak up, she’ll set boundaries, she’ll challenge the bare minimum… and instead of rising to meet her at her level, he’ll shrink.  He’ll call her difficult. He’ll blame her tone, her attitude, her delivery… anything to avoid admitting that he simply couldn’t handle the woman in front of him. Because the truth is, she didn’t push him away… his fear of not being enough pulled him back. Strong women don’t settle for passive love. They don’t sit quietly while being half-loved, half-considered, or half-prioritized. They know their worth, and they don’t play small to protect a man’s ego.  And that’s what scares the weak ones… not her voice, but her standards. Not her independence, but her refusal to beg for effort. Not her confidence, but the fact that she doesn’t need him… she chooses him. And that choice comes with expectations he was never pr...

  One man’s “You’re asking for too much” is another man’s “That’s it?” It’s a simple truth that reveals so much about a person’s character and capacity to love. What feels like an unreasonable demand to one man...the desire for respect, consistency, honesty, and genuine care....is just the bare minimum to another man who knows what it means to truly value a woman. Some men shrink at the thought of meeting those basic needs because it challenges their laziness, their selfishness, or their fear of real commitment. They want less from you because they’re not willing to give more of themselves.  They see your boundaries and your worth as burdens, instead of blessings. But then there are men who see those “asks” as the foundation of a real partnership. They don’t flinch at your standards....they appreciate them.  They understand that love isn’t about grand gestures or fairy tale moments; it’s about showing up, day after day, doing the little things that build trust and securi...

Some days, the world feels too sharp, Too loud, too raw to touch. Headlines scream, phones ring, And chaos dances at our doorstep. But I've learned to find sanctuary In small moments of grace— The way sunlight paints shadows on walls, How wind whispers through leaves, The steady rhythm of my own breath When I remember to just... breathe. I've learned to turn off the noise, To silence the endless chatter, To find strength in gentle things— A cup of coffee at dawn, A moment of kindness between strangers, The quiet courage of growing things. They say the world's gone mad, But perhaps the secret is knowing When to step away from the storm, When to guard your peace like gold, When to let your heart be still In a world that never stops spinning. For in this rush of endless moments, We must remember to be gentle With ourselves, with each other, To find beauty in broken places, To create spaces of quiet wonder In corners of our own making. This is how we stay whole— Not...

Love doesn't mean "I want you" or "I want you to be mine", neither "you're good looking" or "you're sexy"... Doesn't mean "I can't live without you" or "I need you", or "let's be together forever" or any of those things it is often mistaken for. What it actually means is: "I really like, respect and appreciate who you are in all your realness and sovereignty, and if there is anything I can offer, without compromising my true nature, that will help you on your path, then it will be a gift to me if you'll allow me to give it." In this way I find I am loving more and more people every day. - Red K. Elders 🎨Diletta Innocenti Fagni

  Silent Echoes: A Journey of Reclaiming Worth and Embracing Healing     ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤     In the depths of a wounded past, there resided a soul named Emily, whose journey through life was marked by harrowing tribulations. At the tender age of 4 or 5, she became a victim of unspeakable abuse inflicted upon her by her own biological father. This dark secret cast a shadow over her early years, tainting her innocence and shattering her trust in those meant to protect her. Emily's mother, too, bore the weight of her father's wrath. She endured the physical abuse he imposed, becoming a captive in the cycle of pain and torment. In the heart of winter, a chilling act of neglect took place, leaving Emily's delicate body ravaged by frostbite. The repercussions of that cold night persisted into her adulthood, with her hands, ears, and nose recoiling in pain even in mildly cold temperatures, reminding her of the frigid neglect she endured. The trauma etched deep withi...