Category: Advice

The Strong One

I have always been deemed the strong one. The one that you could rely on. The one who always offered a shoulder to cry on. The one who you had never seen shed a tear. The one who always had the right words of comfort and truth which allowed you to grieve without feeling judged. I am honest to a fault, but that allowed me to get to the deeper issues that others were facing and ask the hard questions that needed to be answered. If you do not allow yourself to hurt, you will never heal.

But what happens when I need to cry? What happens when I need someone to listen to my troubles and ask the hard questions? I find that no one is around and willing to do what I have done for them. They don’t enjoy the uncomfortable conversations if they are not the ones benefitting from it. They don’t want to ask the hard questions for the fear of overstepping. They don’t know the right words to say or how to listen without judgement, so instead they say “I’m Sorry” and walk away.

I grew up facing my pain and struggles alone, since my parents didn’t feel comfortable seeing me in a vulnerable state. They didn’t want to talk about my emotions or how I was handling the demons in my heart and in my head. They watched as I suffered, but knew that I would always manage to find my way back to the strong girl they knew. I had to ask myself the difficult questions, and I forced myself to answer them. Everyone thinks of the hard questions, but if they are not voiced then you can get avoid answering them. I didn’t have a choice. Had I tried to bury my monsters I would have died. Likely by my own hand.

I was the strong one. The one who held a gun to my head, but couldn’t pull the trigger. The one who had to take medication to stop the demons in my head from ruling. The one who sat alone in the darkness of my room for days on end, while everyone else was enjoying the Spring sun. I was the one who was always tired, both physically and emotionally and spent most hours sleeping off the ache of hating myself. I was the one who had to be hospitalized and have my stomach pumped to remove the medicine cabinet of pills I had consumed. I was the one who always had a smile, a fake smile, but still a smile.

You see me as the strong one. But I am only strong for the people around me. You see me with a constant smile and a witty joke ready to make you laugh. My humor may be dark, but who doesn’t have a dark side? Who would ever expect me, the strong one, to not be strong at all. To be the weakest of the bunch. To be the one who really needs to be saved.

I will always be the strong one. That is until I can’t be strong any longer and those at my funeral will wonder how they didn’t see it. How they didn’t know. They’ll think, ‘This can’t be right. She was the strong one. She would never take her own life”. They will always think of me as the strong one, and my funeral will be packed with the people who I was strong for, and they will all wonder why I could not be strong for myself.

I am the strong one. For now.

The Art of Apologizing

I was raised in a household of proud people. We were stubborn and had to always be right. We were unconcerned with how our actions could affect others. My family liked to yell as we had a ‘discussion’. We might all be on the same side of the argument, but we still needed our voice to ring out over the others. If you wanted to say something, then you had to interrupt someone else and scream your thoughts to the heavens. A civilized conversation was not something my family could have. We had pride, but sometime that pride can get in the way.

The first time my father apologized was when I was an adult and he almost put my brother through a wall because their ‘discussion’ got physical. He never had apologized for all the times he hit us over the head, or stepped on our toes (literally and figuratively) or any of the times he made us cry or laughed in our face when we opened up about our feelings which he deemed “stupid”. He was a proud man, and that pride cost him his children.

I was raised to be prideful, but I taught myself the art of apologizing. I thought of all the times when an apology would have made me feel better or could have changed the tide on how I feel about my father. I think of all the rifts in our family that could have been smoothed over with a sincere apology. I remember all the times an apology was all I wanted, so much so that I craved it. An apology from my father was as elusive as a snow leopard; I knew it existed, but my hunt for it always came up short.

I grew up never wanting to admit that I was wrong and in my fathers eyes an apology was the acknowledgement of wrongdoing. I now know that this was a dreadful way to live. By not admitting to your faults, you can never learn from them. By brushing off others feelings you were only hurting them more. An apology is a beautiful thing and it can alter the course of your relationship with someone if you genuinely mean it.

I know I am a stubborn person and can be hot headed at times. So I remove myself from the situation that is causing a crack in my composure and take a moment to cool down before thinking about what is really happening or being said. Was I jumping to conclusions? Was I right to to be angry or sad? I think about the situation from the other persons point of view to try to understand where it all went south. Then I construct an apology. An apology about how I have reflected on the scenario and realized it is not worth losing a friend or family. I may not be the only one at fault, but I make sure to own up to what I might have done or said that could have made the situation worse.

I don’t try to get the other person to apologize or see my point of view. This isn’t about who is right or wrong. This is about taking responsibility for your actions and trying to make amends. Not all apologies will be accepted and that is okay. Hopefully that person will also reflect on their actions and come to their senses. If not, then they are not someone you need in your life, trust me. If you are the one who is not accepting the apology, ask yourself “What or who did you lose to win?”

We are all so concentrated on winning the argument or getting someone else to admit they are wrong, but what are we losing to win that argument? Who are you pushing away just to be right?

Never let your apologies be elusive. Never let your loved ones second guess your adoration for them. Never let a small argument ruin a lifetime of friendship because your pride got in the way.

Never assume you are always right.