Why Do Women Feel Cheated? (1/5)
When I say, “women feel cheated,” I’m not talking about what you think I’m talking about. This isn’t another story about a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants — we’ve heard those a thousand times, and honestly, we all have the capability to step out on someone. This is about something much bigger and more insidious: the systematic way women get cheated out of their potential, their dreams, their time, their energy, and their future. This is about the life of a woman who gives and gives until she looks up one day and wonders what happened to HER life.
And before you roll your eyes thinking this is going to be some bitter rant about men (it’s not), or some “poor me” victim story (definitely not), let me tell you what this IS about: it’s about recognizing patterns that are so normalized we don’t even see them anymore. It’s about calling out a system that has convinced women that our worth comes from how much we can sacrifice without complaint.
Why Do Women Feel Cheated? Because We ARE.
Let’s start with the truth: women feel cheated because oftentimes, we ARE cheated. Not in the dramatic, soap-opera way where someone runs off with our best friend and our bank account. We’re cheated in quieter, more socially acceptable ways that everyone pretends are just “the way things are.”
We’re cheated out of time — our most precious, non-renewable resource. While we’re managing everyone else’s schedules, emotional needs, and life logistics, our own time gets treated like it’s infinitely available and completely disposable.
We’re cheated out of energy — physical, emotional, and mental. We pour ourselves out like we’re some kind of endless well, and when we finally run dry, people act surprised that we’re tired. “But you’re so strong,” they say, as if strength means we don’t need rest, encouragement, or someone else to carry the load for a while.
We’re cheated out of dreams — the big ones and the little ones. We defer, delay, and ultimately abandon our aspirations because someone else’s needs always seem more urgent, more important, more worthy of pursuit.
We’re cheated out of recognition — for the invisible labor we do, the sacrifices we make, the dreams we give up. Our contributions get filed under “that’s what women do” while everyone else’s achievements get celebrated and rewarded.
And we’re cheated out of choices — real choices, not the illusion of choice between giving up Dream A or Dream B to serve someone else’s Dream C.
My Military Story: The Price of Putting Others First
Let me tell you about my life, because I guarantee you’ll see yourself in it.
I wanted to serve in the military. Had the dream, had the drive, had the capability. I could already see myself in uniform, serving my country, building a career that was MINE. And honey, I put my BODY where my mouth was — I trained my body to naturally lose 100 pounds for this dream. One hundred pounds. Before we ever had a GLP-1 to help, thank God for that now. But my lord, I ran it off, dieted it off, worked it off through sheer determination. Everyone around me could see how badly I wanted this — the physical transformation was proof of my commitment.
This wasn’t a whim. This wasn’t some passing fancy. I literally transformed my entire body for this goal. I changed my eating habits, my lifestyle, my daily routine. I got up at 5 AM to run. I meal prepped like my life depended on it. I researched everything about military life, talked to recruiters, planned my future down to which benefits I’d use for continuing education.
But my partner at the time? He kicked and screamed about me going in and guilted me into feeling like I was abandoning him. Mind you — and here’s where it gets rich — this same man had a full career in the military and retired with benefits for life, while I’m still out here grinding at jobs that don’t even offer decent health insurance. He had HIS military career, collected HIS benefits, built HIS resume, and then decided mine was a threat to his comfort.
I kept that weight off for years, running and training, holding onto the dream even as he slowly killed it with guilt, manipulation, and the constant message that my ambitions were somehow selfish.
Fast forward eleven years: our relationship ended, and I had completely aged out of military service. Imagine if I had just gone in? I’d be a few years from retirement right now, collecting my own benefits, living my own dream, probably writing this blog from some cool military base overseas, financially secure for life.
Instead, I sacrificed my future for his comfort. I gave up financial security, career fulfillment, and a dream I had literally reshaped my body to achieve — all so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with me having something that was mine.
This is How it Starts
And that, ladies, is how the great give-away begins. It starts with one “reasonable” request to put someone else’s comfort above your dreams. It starts with one sacrifice that seems noble and loving in the moment. It starts with the belief that your dreams can wait while everyone else’s needs get priority.
But here’s what nobody tells you when you make that first sacrifice: it establishes a pattern. It sends a message to everyone around you that your dreams are negotiable, your time is available, your energy is expendable. It teaches people that you’ll always choose their comfort over your own goals.
And once that pattern is established, it becomes your life.
The military story isn’t just about one relationship or one dream. It’s about a lifetime of being taught that good women sacrifice, that strong women endure, that loving women put everyone else first. It’s about a culture that benefits from women’s willingness to give up pieces of themselves and then calls that sacrifice “natural” or “noble” or “what women do.”
But what if it’s not noble? What if it’s just normalized exploitation dressed up as virtue?
Where I Stand Now (And Where You Can Too)
But here’s where the story changes, because I’m not the same woman who gave up her military dreams for someone else’s comfort. Oh no, honey. Now I FIGHT for what’s left. I give of myself in ways that make sense, not in ways that deplete me. If any man — or child, for that matter — feels that I should sacrifice who I am and what I need for them and their selfishness, I’m out. It’s not happening.
We can go together, supporting each other’s dreams and ambitions, or we can go alone, but it will NOT be because I’m putting myself away until a “better time” presents itself. Because I’ve learned something the hard way: that better time? It might never come.
This is what women must learn, and I’m over the hump now. But imagine if I had learned this earlier. My life just may have been different. Don’t get me wrong — I LOVE the life I’ve curated for myself. I’m proud of what I’ve built from the ashes of those old dreams. But I can see where I gave up WAY too much, where I traded pieces of myself that I can never get back.
And if my story can help even one woman recognize this pattern before she loses a decade of her life to someone else’s comfort, then maybe all that sacrifice will have served a purpose after all.
The Weight of Small Sacrifices
Maybe you didn’t lose 100 pounds for a dream only to have it dismissed. But I bet you’ve made your own versions of that sacrifice. Maybe you didn’t apply for the graduate program because your partner couldn’t handle the change. Maybe you didn’t take the job in another city because it would disrupt everyone else’s life. Maybe you didn’t start the business, write the book, take the trip, learn the language, or pursue the passion because someone else needed you to stay small, stay available, stay in your designated role as the giver.
And maybe, like me, you’re starting to look around and wonder what your life would look like if you had chosen yourself sometimes. If you had believed that your dreams were worth pursuing, your time was worth protecting, your energy was worth preserving.
If you had believed that you were worth choosing.
But wait, it gets better. Or worse, depending on how you look at it.
Share this if it resonated with you — and tag a woman who needs to read this series. We’re starting a conversation that’s long overdue. This is my stuff too!
Queenie 💛
