I am strong.
I am incredibly strong.
I never knew how strong Before.
I wonder how I survived those first few minutes of knowing, those first few hours of screaming, that first night, week, month, year.
But I did.
…and so I know I am made of strong stuff.
I know it’s true because I am still here, raising two children, finding joy where I can get it
…. and I am not dead.
But sometimes I think I am so strong that people don’t see past the incredible feats of strength and endurance I am constantly displaying.
…and they forget that it takes every ounce of my strength to keep moving forward.
…and they let me carry too much of their load.
…and I do it because I am strong.
But I worry that I can only carry so much.
So I am going to pick and choose those extra things I must carry.
I’m not going to take on everyone’s minor problems.
Because I need every ounce of my strength for us.
(This is a repost of my post on Widow’s Voice this week)