Welcome Amazons!

Because this isn't a solo mission. In sharing my daily ups and downs, I want women to know that shit happens but it always makes us stronger.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Curveball Ahead

Not this most recent weekend, but the weekend before I was blindsided by some news that I was NOT expecting.  And while the immediate shock numbed a lot of it, and it's taken me awhile to process the information, reality is starting to set in and my world has surely been rocked.

The specific details aren't important because anyone can relate to what it feels like to take a curveball head-on and walk away hurting.  Sufficed to say, one of my biggest fears could be coming true again and it's left me feeling vulnerable and weak and inadequate.


And I hate that feeling.


I hate feeling as though I'm crumbling from within.  The gym can only take me so far and then I must rely on my own inner strength to carry me the rest of the journey.  The dread comes not from fearing that this will persist forever, but instead that I don't know how long it will endure.

My Amazon sister gave me some wonderful advice (in poetry form, no less!) today as we were lamenting these latest woes.  I'm happy to say that it lifted my spirits, even if only momentarily, and I was reminded of the incredible strength that we can derive from our closest friends.

Hopefully each and every one of us have at least one or two of these remarkable people in our lives and I can't stress enough how important it is to keep them close.  I rarely cry in front of people (chalk it up to my ego) but I know I can let my guard down with this select few.

Additionally I have learned that there is nothing wrong with admitting pain.  It's taken me a long time to get to this point but I can (somewhat) comfortably admit that "I'm not in a good place" if that's how I happen to be feeling.

I hope this provides you with a small bit of comfort if/when you deal with your own curveball.  By nature we cannot predict them and therefore they usually strike harder than we'd like.  So accept that you've been hit.  Let the sting sink in and spread until your eyes well up with tears.  And then let someone give you a hand back up onto your feet.


I'm not out of the woods yet, perhaps I've only just begun the journey through, but I'll find my way again.


In the meantime, I have to learn how to "take care of me."  I have no idea what that means but everyone keeps telling me to do so.  More to come...