I’m Not What YOU Call Strong
I was 18 years old when Mom was diagnosed with the cancer recurrence that, just seven months later, would take her life.
As she sat in the hospital bed listening to doctors and quietly grappling with what had suddenly become the end of her life, I sat in the chair listening to the same conversations and quietly grappling with what was to be the start of mine.
Without realizing it, an internal flip switched, shifting me from Sherry Samuels, 18-year-old rising college Freshman, to Sherry Samuels, (unofficial) medical proxy.
In a few short days I switched schools, learned medical jargon, unpacked my life and discovered just how much sleep I did NOT need.
For the next seven months I did my best to balance a full-time class schedule, a part-time job, her medical appointments, household bills and the endless unknowns greeting me at every turn.
The days felt like an endless race…and I was no runner. But somehow my body managed to keep going, surviving on fast food, gas station snacks and adrenaline.
My memory was my closest ally, effortlessly keeping track of commitments, hers and mine. And every once in awhile, I even remembered to sleep.
I was a time-juggling, sleepwalking, robot whose moves were controlled by everything and everyone else but me.
There was no time for feeling. There was no time for breathing. There was no time for anything that felt like living.
I knew my name. I knew her name. I knew the schedule. Everything else was lost.
I lost myself in medical jargon and changing timelines. I lost myself in the tending to and worrying about. I lost myself in a sea of hopelessness and grief. I lost myself in the day-to-day needs of my best friend…my first love…my mother.
And then she took that last breath…and it took my breath away.
In the month’s leading up to my mom’s passing, again and again I was applauded by family and friends for my strength.
Strong? I didn’t FEEL strong. I felt lost, confused and overwhelmed. I felt tired, scared and sad. But I didn’t say any of that.
Instead I smiled, nodded and decided I must be doing something right, something of value. And so I kept doing more of the same, like any “strong” girl would.
It didn’t matter that I was weary, that it hurt to think or that I was practically choking on the looming dread that followed learning my mom’s life had a real expiration date.
I was strong.
For her.
For my brother.
For family and friends.
I was strong.
And after she was gone, I continued being strong.
I smiled in public and cried when I was alone.
I paid bills like a responsible adult and had sex like an irresponsible child.
I supported and encouraged others while quietly numbing my own ability to feel.
I was strong.
I was (their definition of) strong…
Until I wasn’t.
I remember the day that I realized the definition of strong I had come to know did not belong to me. And it was that day that I began to REALLY breathe again.
Speaking through salty tears in a room of (almost) strangers, I understood what it meant to be truly strong.
Strength is NOT about showing up to be everything to everybody (even those we love the most). Sometimes the greatest strength we can and will exhibit is in honoring our “NO”.
Strength is NOT about running ourselves ragged because that is what others are used to. Strength is about giving ourselves permission to breathe, to take the breaks needed to nourish mind, body and spirit.
Strength is NOT about shutting down or pushing away the truth of our feelings. Strength is about trusting that ALL of our feelings matter, even the ones that make others uncomfortable.
Strength is NOT about DO-ing our way through life. Strength is about BE-ing FULLY in our lives.
Looking back, I am both grateful for the time I was able to give to my mother and the lessons I have embraced (YEARS LATER) as a result of those last months of her life. And I know she would be proud of the woman who stands today, strong enough to know better so she can do better.
As you think about what it means to you to connect deeply to your true, authentic space of strength, consider the following:
When we are used to doing for others, saying “No” can feel challenging in ways that inspire your internal Negative Nancy to trash talk you. Respond to that negative self-talk with reminders that you DESERVE to care for yourself FIRST as your self-care will always make room for you and others.
Every day is different. That means what your strength looks like today may be different than what it looks like tomorrow. That is ALL OK.
You ARE good enough. You do not have to prove yourself to anyone. Show up when you can do so fully, without regret and let everything else go.
Are you ready to redefine strength for yourself but want a little support on that journey? Let’s talk about it! Click HERE to schedule your complimentary consultation.
