I am a "desperate" woman
Reclaiming "desperate" as a sign of awareness, hunger, and aliveness in a system that counts on women's numbness
Happy Sunday, Soothers. The internet, as you probably know, is a deeply unwell place these days. Even in a community and audience as loving and generous and kind as you are all, and in my growing following on Instagram, I have my fair share of haters and concern-trolls, especially as I’ve become more public about my spirituality and woven it into my work and offerings.
An example: a couple months ago, someone left a comment on one of my Instagram posts. It was a post about using Feng Shui—specifically the energy of your front door—to invite more abundance into your life. I deleted the comment and blocked the person (a necessity these days online), so I can’t remember the exact wording, but it 100% went along these lines:
”The only reason you have the success you do is because you’re a fraud who’s gotten better at marketing to and exploiting desperate women.”
The desperate women line was definitely there, because that burned into my mind. And the comment - for a moment, it well and truly stung. Not because it was true—it wasn’t. I’m certified in Feng Shui (as well as life coaching and a variety of other modalities), have practiced it personally for years, professionally for a few, and have watched it help both myself and others in profound ways.
No, it stung because of the weight the word “desperate” carries. The way it’s hurled at women in particular as a kind of silencing, a shaming, a dismissal.
A patheticness.
A way to keep us in line.
I’ve worked with hundreds of women over my six years in my business, and connected via my writing, podcasts and social media, with thousands more. So I know the kind of people I’ve worked with, and I deeply admire them and am inspired by them.
“These women aren’t desperate!” I wanted to shout. “They’re powerful, and strong, struggling and hurting, yes, but brave and wonderful. Who are YOU to call them desperate—you, sitting there anonymously leaving spiteful comments on anybody’s Instagram account? Ha ha, YOU are the desperate one, troll! GOT U!”
(At this point I had absolutely gone off into one of those made-up fight scenarios in my head with whoever this person was. You know how those go. To anybody around you watching you, you’ve absolutely fully disassociated, eyes glassy, staring off at a wall, breathing shallowly, but a rich inner dialogue of totally bitch-slapping and owning somebody is happening on the inside of your brain. So fun.)
But after I sat more with it, something else bubbled up. Because usually when anger arises for me, grief is right below it. And I felt it—deep in my chest, that familiar, mournful ache. The one I’ve carried for years, the one so many of us carry.
The ache of wanting more. Of longing for belief in ourselves, worth, joy, for softness, for power, for something to change.
But the accompanying fear of being seen as needy, too much… desperate, if we show that wanting, that needing. That sadness and pain, is right alongside it.
Because that’s what we’re trained to do, isn’t it? To avoid the label of “desperate” at all costs.
To be the cool girl—chill, self-contained, low maintenance. The one who doesn’t want too much, ask for too much, need too much. Who isn’t too “crazy.”
We’re taught to treat our desire like a flaw, to shrink our hunger so we won’t scare anyone off, to mask our longing with irony or overachievement or spiritual detachment.
Absolutely anything to avoid being seen as too much.
Because “too much” gets mocked.
“Needy” gets left.
“Weird” gets exiled.
And “desperate” gets dismissed as pathetic.
So we try to outrun it. We try to stay above it. We shame the parts of ourselves that reach, ache, and hope too hard, that are weird and wanting. That dare to dream we deserve something better, that there’s potential for change, that the world doesn’t have to be like this, that our lives could completely shift.
But if there’s anything I know, as I head towards my later 40s, it’s this:
I am fucking done running.
Because what I’ve come to understand:
That ache? That hunger? That longing? That too much? That desperation?
It’s not weakness.
It’s aliveness.
It’s hope.
It’s potential, a belief that more and better is possible.
It’s what others may dismiss as naivete, gullibility, delusion, pitifulness.
But here’s what I think it actually is:
That longing, that neediness, that desperation: admitting that you have it, that it’s inside of you — well, that’s often actually the first spark of change.
And if that makes me a desperate woman?
Then fuck it, y’all.
I am the most fucking desperate woman you have ever met.
And I wouldn’t want to be anything else right now.
Who ISN’T desperate these days? If you’re not desperate, I don’t know that you’re well, or have eyes and hearts to witness what’s happening.
Because I’m desperate to live in a world that values rest, softness, intuition.
Desperate to have governments that protect children and families.
Desperate to unlearn the low self-worth handed to me like a birthright.
Desperate to be well in a world that profits off my burnout.
Desperate to believe things can change—for me, for you, for all of us.
Desperate to throw off the weight of patriarchy, perfectionism, and performative wellness.
And if you're not a desperate woman—if you’re calm and comfortable in this late capitalist, white supremacist, patriarchal world—I don’t necessarily trust you.
As the quote goes: “It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”
Likewise, I’d argue: It is no measure of well-being to be not desperate right now.
To be desperate means to be awake. To be desperate means you still care. It means you haven't numbed out. You haven’t given up. You’re still reaching. Still hoping. Still willing to try something new, even if it looks “weird” or “woo” or not vetted by institutional approval.
And here's the other thing: in my experience, that comment—and others like it that I’ve received—often come not from men or conservatives, but from white, liberal, "progressive" women, particularly when it involves seeking or spirituality. And that’s important to note.
Because what I’ve learned is that in a culture that rewards conformity, many of us—even and sometimes especially progressive white women—have been unconsciously trained to act as the hall monitors of the “rational” patriarchy. To police other women’s beliefs, expressions, and spiritualities under the guise of "concern" or "skepticism."
They mock the seekers. They sneer at the spiritual. They frame other women’s connection to something bigger as naivete, and their hunger for more as manipulation.
It’s internalized misogyny dressed up in pseudo-rationalism.
But I’m not here to make women more palatable. I’m here to help us reclaim our yearning. Our weirdness. Our wonder. Our wild grasping for something better.
And if that makes me a woman for the desperate?
I accept.
Better desperate than complicit.
Better too loud than silent.
Better too much than numb.
Better weird than conventional.
So here’s to the desperate women—the ones who still believe in something more, still reach for something else, still dare to hope.
If you’re desperate too—for peace, for possibility, for a shift from the way things have always been—well, good.
That means you’re paying attention.
Come sit with me.
We can be desperate women on purpose. Desperate with intention. Desperate and weird and still full of hope.
I’ll bring the snacks. You bring your too much, deeply feeling, beautifully desperate heart.
Let’s blow the door off its hinges.
xo
Catherine
PS: Exciting news! I’ll be co-hosting two retreats in 2026. I know that seems forever away and god only knows what is in store for society and the world a year from now, but let’s still plan and dream. One is in Sedona on the Spring Equinox in March (the REAL new year, IYKYK) and one is in fall in TUSCANY, BABY!!!! Waitlists for early bird pricing are up for both at those links, so drop your emails in and let’s retreat together in these gorgeous places on these gorgeous lands. Putting your email on the waitlists is just a notice of interest, not a commitment in any way. Desperate women are especially encouraged to attend <3
PPS: If you liked this post, please hit the “heart” button below, share it on Notes, or forward it to another desperate woman who needs to read it.
Thank you for this article! So much to think about!
OMG! Catherine, you have been on fire lately. PLEASE stay desperate. Amazing article. So much for me to think about (especially the hall monitor comment... eek!).