A Woman of Strength

It’s late. I just came home from watching Julie & Julia. I loved it. It was just as I thought it would be. Inspirational, funny – the critics are wrong about Amy Adams role in the movie. She was fabulous. I enjoyed every bit of the movie. Meryl Streep was a wonderful Julia Childs. I couldn’t help but relate to the concept of a blogger, writing – pouring pieces of her soul into the intraweb wondering if anyone out there was actually reading it.

It got me thinking about my own life. I’m inspired to be as honest as I possibly can be. Not that I’ve written anything dishonest, but I haven’t told all the story. I mean, some things are painful enough to go through the first time. Why write it out to go through it again?

But – when I die – I want to leave this world a bit better off than I found it. I want to inspire people. I want people to think of me, to read the story of me, to have known me and think ‘She made my life better.’ I want people to say ‘the way she walked, the way she talked, how she lived her life impacted me. It helped me become a better person and let me know that if she did it, so can I”. Is this too much to want?

Is it an egotistical goal? I don’t know. I don’t think it is. It seems noble enough. I was recently interviewed as part of a series on inspirational women. At one time, I would have cowered from the word inspirational used in combination with my name. But today I don’t. Not because I think I’ve arrived. Far from it. But because I recognize there is a change within me. I’m not the same woman I was 6 months ago. I’m not the same woman I was 3 months ago. And the change, this process of maturation, what I’m experiencing – all this is something everyone needs and can benefit from. It’s what life is. Falling down, getting up and then looking around to see who else needs a hand to help them.

I’m in the process of becoming who I want to be. I imagine the wizened, elderly Tawnya looking at me in compassion, with kindness and fondness. I see her reaching to me today and letting me know everything is going to be ok. I know if she were here already, she would love me. It sounds strange, maybe. But it’s what I feel to be true.

I look at women all around me. I was raised by a strong, but imperfect woman. As we all are. And her strength has left that indelible mark on me. I’ve seen her, fighting her disease. Not giving in to the pain of arthritis. Enduring horrible steroids and awful treatments that left her so vulnerable that even the simplest of colds could be the death of her.

I’ve watched this woman, my mom, battle pancreatitis. I called every day to hear her numbers from the most recent test to know if her kidneys were holding up. And I lived in fear when, as she was hospitalized for yet another bout of pancreatitis, one that left her in a coma after horrible surgery, discover she had an aggressive form of breast cancer.

She’s not perfect. She gets cranky when she’s in pain. Hell, who doesn’t? But she rarely complains. And she is one of the strongest fighters I’ve ever met. So – I know that I too am a fighter. It’s in me. It’s in my blood. It’s part of the mark she’s made on my life.

I’ve had moments during this divorce where I crumpled on my bed and cried. I had no idea if I could make it. The pain, the emotional pain, seemed so strong at moments I honestly wondered where I’d find the strength to withstand. Especially while watching, at a distance, my mom suffer and not able to do anything about it.

But, I didn’t stay crumpled. I cried. I despaired. But when I got it out of my system, I stood back up. And I kept going.

There are still days when I’m fatigued from all I’m going through. Days when I feel tired and just want to give up. But, I know that just around the corner life is going to be better.

I also have three little boys who someday will look at their mom and think, God willing, ‘My mom is a fighter. My mom is one of the strongest women I know.’ At least, I hope they will. And on days when I want to succumb to depression, to feeling pity – I look at their beautiful faces and think ‘For them, I will be strong.’

So, I’m making a pledge to open even more of myself up. To show the wounds, the scars, the pain and the lessons in hopes that when someone sees pieces of themselves mirrored in my words they will find their strength and rise to their full potential too.