Some are Made Stronger

August 5,2002….a normal day…I believe it was a Tuesday but I am not positive. This was my second test of learning I am built differently. My first husband had been killed in a car accident and I was left to raise our son alone.

I remember my Mother telling me that she wasn’t sure how I was doing all the things…raising a son, working and trying to get through all the stages of grief.

There have been a lot of trials in my life…and somedays I wish I could fall apart….but I am not built that way….to the bitter end….I just won’t quit.

I entertain throwing the towel in. I imagine living the RV life…and how great it would be to sell everything…and just go see all the things. Say goodbye to people who hate me….say goodbye to constant chaos of owning a business…

What would it be like to finish a task uninterrupted? Read five chapters of a book without a phone call.

I have planned two funerals by myself….I have buried the man who loved me the most on this planet….my father….while learning afterwards how people who did nothing to help were annoyed at how I did things….

I have buried a husband who had affairs and they were clinging to his casket….while I sat there with my son….wishing I could wake up from the nightmare.

I have endured breast cancer and radiation and I am on one year of hormone therapy with four years to go….that in itself will make you want to get in an RV and never look back.

Recently, I have dealt with more skin cancer and daily calls of the nursing home my Mother is at. As I helped her into bed one night she asked me to get Dad….and tell him to come see her….and I want to run….and keep running….

I don’t want to comfort anyone else…I don’t want to explain myself…I don’t want to have the answer…I don’t want to be the one you can always count on…I want to be the flake…the drama queen…and irresponsible.

I want to be uncaring….say hateful things to people and about people…I don’t want to be the person where people constantly watch….wanting them to fail and fall…to mess up and to constantly want them to be defeated.

But….I am not built that way….my Dad wouldn’t let me be.

I am strong because what else can I be? There has to be someone who fixes it….someone who takes care of it…someone who is the planner of the trips, the payer of the bills….the one who everyone looks at to know just how big of trouble we are in….the one who is the leader but never asked to be. I am the one who always must find the solution…and I am raising my kids to be the same.

I am sensitive and feel things most people do not. I am affected by negative people and I am encouraged by those that make me feel seen. It heals me when I am around that.

I am the one who sees the weak among us and try to bring that person out. I am loyal to a fault but once you prove yourself to be a liar and a thief I have nothing for you.

I do not understand those who give people chances who have been known to lie and steal and say horrible things to other people and I am confused why people still give these people the time of day and involve themselves in their lives?

It is bizarre to me when you have watched how someone treats someone else and still has a relationship with them? What do you think they will do to you? Do you not realize these types of people are users? They will do the same to you when they are done with you that they have done to others.

When I would lay there during radiation and hold my breath and count the rotations …I would tell myself how strong I was…

I would shout in my head F cancer.

I would rub my finger over the scars trying to get used to the strange feeling my skin now had. As I suffered through vertigo….and lymphedema I wondered just how much more I could take….

And I discovered….just a little bit more.

Because, I am not your average bear….i am the fifth daughter…named after my father as the last hope of a boy….I have disappointed people since the day I was born.

I have the best sense of humor….I am funny…I say that without arrogance…but my brain works in a way where I’m always imagining a joke…it’s a defense mechanism.

I am short and always have been….but my stature has never bothered me….and I can play a piano with the best of them.

But….i do want to cry when my Mom asks me to get my Dad….

And my armour is getting rusty….and this soldier is tired…and ready to give in….

But for now….I just keep getting back up!