Now, as a consequence, we second-guess ourselves for relishing the joy that comes with achieving the goals we’ve dedicated our lives to. In a recent post, TikToker @savannacristina shared how distant she felt from the concept of life being soft: “It’s become this aesthetic that I just can’t relate to, and I wish that I could…but I literally can’t. I feel like life has always been hard, and as a result I’ve built a hard exterior. So now, thinking about finding an environment where I can be vulnerable and be softer feels unattainable. Cuz I ain’t never been no soft-ass bitch. And no shade because ‘Where do I sign up?’ It just feels like it’s never been an option. This is just how I’ve come to be.” With that, she verbalized an experience that’s all too familiar for many of us. It’s almost as if our cultural subconscious is telling us that we don’t deserve the peace we long for, that too much has happened and our traumas are too deep, and because we’ve had to become hard to survive thus far, it’s too late for us to be soft.
While some might argue that it’s flattering to be known for our tenacity, I have to wonder what happens when we need a break. Where do you fit in if you’re not always so strong? What if, like me, you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve had to sneak away from your desk to cry in the break room because an email from a colleague pushed you over the edge? Or because you’re so overwhelmed with being everything for everyone else that you can’t even find the words to ask for help for yourself? What if we rejected this narrative and put our mental and physical health first—not just for a day or a weekend but for our whole lives? What if, like @look_its_britt, I, too, want to be a dainty princess?
When I was in my 20s, there was no soft life. Obviously, I had not been introduced to the concept, but I literally had no cushion on which to land softly. I’d bought into the narrative that these were the years during which I was meant to leverage my childless freedom to toil in the trenches, only coming up for air when I’d laid a socially acceptable financial foundation. I never took care of my mental health (hence the crying), and despite my lack of funds, I masked my untreated depression with too-frequent trips to Zara and overpriced almond croissants.
No one consciously chooses hardship, but looking back at my choices, I realize a lot of my decision making was based on the idea that I didn’t deserve the easier path. Just last summer, I bought a two-metre-tall faux plant in a 10-kilogram concrete pot at HomeSense, and because I had already spent money on “frivolous” home decor, I dragged it three-and-a-half kilometres home in 32˚C heat because spending $10 on an Uber was just “too luxurious” for me. Now, as I settle into my soft-life era (a.k.a. my early 30s), I’m no longer consenting to things that make my life unnecessarily difficult. I am rebuking every inner or outer thought that plays up my insecurities and plays down my self worth. The soft life isn’t about living beyond one’s means. It’s about revelling in the means you have and rejecting unnecessary inconvenience because it’s just that—unnecessary.