October 8, 2008
I think people are trying to be nice. Everyone says, “You are so strong.” No. Not really. They don’t see the minute-by-minute stuff that’s really going on here. So what do they mean by STRONG? I’m pretty sure it’s not my 95-pound body.
I wonder if they would say I’m strong if they saw how much I cry in my closet. After I get home from the gym each morning the tears just flow and keep coming. Seriously sobbing and sobbing for a month. I try to get myself all together before I run to the store to grab a few necessities and yes I look like I am holding together just fine. When someone sees me, if they dare talk to me, I can usually hold my tears back for a few sentences and hurry on my way. Is that strong?
Yes, I am still alive and can get out of bed to get my kids to school. I can go to the store for milk and eggs and I can’t remember what else. I go to church and am pretty much numb and can’t even concentrate to listen. I go to the gym every day because this is my time to get out all of my emotions. The anger, the sadness, and whatever else is popping up that day. I remember at the end of yoga class when meditating for a few minutes the tears flowing out of my eyes and down my cheek into a puddle. That doesn’t feel strong but maybe it is- maybe strong is putting down the ego and letting people see this loss for what it is. It hurts. Loss is not easy.
I’m wondering if I really have a choice to be strong? I guess so. I could just stay in bed with all of my six kids every day. I’m not sure that would be awesome in any way. Having them go to school is good for them and they get to be “strong” at school by showing up. Maybe that’s what it is. I am showing up. I am surviving and breathing. Maybe I need to change my definition of what strong is… I am moving forward one step, one breath at a time. I am STRONG!