the truth about being strong.
Being strong holds so many meanings. To many, it could be how easy you can lift something, how big of a rock you can push or even how powerful you’ve become.
To a grieving mother, being strong means something so different. Being called strong means that you have faced the unimaginable. Yes I am mother effing strong, but I didn’t have a choice.
Life is no longer wondering about the little things, it’s about how do I put on a mask and face the world as a new human. It’s about trying to fit in, in a world that wants to forget about what you’ve gone through. It’s about putting on that smile so others won’t feel the pain you feel. But when in our home, that mask turns into the truth. The truth, that it is a struggle to keep standing.
There are days that are harder then others, days where a simple chore could make your heart fall on the floor and make it impossible to clean up. Days that you feel you cannot do anything right, and days that make you feel as though you have failed terribly. Days that you just can’t seem to make others understand the pain you feel, and it can just destroy you. Days that you feel you can’t please anyone or do enough to make others happy, and once again feel as though you’ve failed.
Its a painful cycle that repeats itself like a scratched CD.
& the holiday season seems to make this 100x worse. The never ending thrown-in-your face fact that you no longer have your whole family together. You no longer have that perfect picture to send out and you no longer feel the excitement that was once the highlight of the season. The worst part… only one little pair of feet running to see what santa left instead of two.
The truth, most can’t handle, and to be honest I can barely handle it.
Being strong… most days means getting out of bed and walking passed Mason room, without becoming a puddle. It’s about controlling the anger, understanding as best as you can the pain from your heart. When you need to slow down and when you just need to throw things and scream. Yes there are days that are ugly, days that don’t go fast enough and days that I absolutely wish didn’t exist. (the 27th of every month).
Being strong, is a full time job, and a constant reminder that I’ve gone through the unimaginable.
Yes I am strong, but it came at a hard price.