The Woman I Had Become

A while ago, I wrote something in my journal:

“I have spent most of my life in battle, waiting for the enemy to attack... sword in hand, I have stood on guard. Listening. Watching. Aware.”

When I read it back, I realized just how true it was.

For much of my life, I was the fighter, the protector, the advocate. I could walk into difficult situations and somehow know what needed to be done. I fought for myself, my children, the people I loved and, for nearly twenty years working in human services, for people who needed someone willing to stand beside them.

There was a lot of strength in that part of me.

But holy shit, she was tired!!!

I didn't realize how much energy it took to always be watching, anticipating and preparing... making sure everyone was okay, being the strong one, being ready for whatever might come next.

It had become such a natural way of moving through the world that I didn't really question it. I was capable. Independent. Strong. I knew how to handle hard things and how to keep going when life fell apart.

Those were qualities I was proud of, and in many ways, I still am.

But somewhere along the way, I started asking myself:

What happens when there is no battle to fight? Who am I when I don't need to protect, rescue, advocate, prove, push or hold everything together?

I didn't have an answer.

I think that's part of what made this past year so disorienting. Some of the identities that had made me feel strong, capable and useful were also identities I had adopted in order to survive. They had carried me through some incredibly difficult experiences and, somewhere along the way, I had stopped seeing them as ways I had learned to survive and started believing they were simply who I was.

So when those identities began to release their grip, I didn't feel free...

I felt completely lost.

When you've spent most of your life being someone, even when that someone was shaped through survival, who are you without her???

We talk a lot about releasing old patterns and letting go of the things that no longer serve us, as though there is always this wonderful sense of freedom waiting on the other side.

That hasn't been my experience.

Sometimes letting go feels like grief.

It feels like standing in the middle of your own life without any idea who you are anymore. The things that once gave you purpose no longer fit in the same way, but whatever is coming next hasn't fully revealed itself yet.

And that space in between can be incredibly uncomfortable!!!

For a while, I think part of me believed that becoming someone new meant leaving the woman I had been behind. That if the fighter had been born through survival, then somehow I needed to become softer, less guarded, less fierce.

But the more I sit with her, the more I realize I don't want to lose her at all.

I love her.

I love her fire, her courage and her willingness to stand up and say, “No. This isn't okay.” I love her willingness to walk straight into the darkness when everyone else is looking away. I love that she has fought for people who didn't have the strength to fight for themselves and that she has stood beside people in some of the hardest moments of their lives.

There is something beautiful in her fierceness. Something deeply true.

And maybe that's what I've been learning through all of this...

The parts of us that were shaped through survival aren't necessarily parts we need to get rid of. Sometimes there is something precious buried inside them... a quality of our Soul that learned to express itself through whatever circumstances we were given.

My fierceness isn't the problem. My strength isn't the problem. The woman who knows how to fight isn't the problem.

I just don't need her standing at the door with a sword ALL the time.

I'm learning there is a difference between having strength and always needing to be strong. Between being capable of fighting and living as though another battle is always around the corner. Between loving people deeply and believing it is my responsibility to carry them.

I can be fierce without always being on guard. I can stand beside people without rescuing them. I can love without carrying everyone and everything. I can allow someone else to take care of me sometimes (even though that one still feels a little uncomfortable to accept).

And maybe I can stop measuring my strength by how much I am able to endure.

Perhaps you know that feeling too...

Maybe you've been the strong one, the capable one, the helper, the peacekeeper, the woman everyone depends on. Maybe you've become so good at carrying everything that you don't even realize how heavy it has become.

And somewhere underneath all of that is a woman who's just really tired...

I've been getting to know mine.

I'm learning to see her differently now. I don't see someone I need to fix, erase or leave behind. I see a woman who learned how to survive. A woman who became incredibly strong because life asked her to be. A woman who has been standing guard for a very long time.

I think this next chapter is about allowing all of that strength, fire and fierceness to become something more than survival.

Allowing the woman who has spent so much of her life standing guard to finally lower her sword, look around and realize that, at least for this moment, she is safe enough to rest.