“You were given this life because you are strong enough to live it.” I get it. I understand the meaning. The sentiment. But I gotta be honest. I kind of think it’s crap.

I don’t think hard times and adversity are given to people because they are strong enough to handle it. I think people become strong because they have to deal with the hard times and the adversity they face. Strong people are made. Strength takes time and patience and a hell of a lot of hard work. That’s what I think.

I think about some the strongest people I know. I think about the adversity they have faced – illnesses and accidents and complicated families and traumas and loss and just loads of crap that have come their way and I think about how it appears they have reacted. I see bravery and courage and perseverance. I even see gratitude and optimism and happiness. These people are some of the most badass people I know.

But I also think those people would be the first to tell me they are not always what I think. I think they might tell me that sometimes they smile and laugh and roll with the punches. They stand tall and speak loudly, but they would say those actions are for me. So that I feel better and so I’m not uncomfortable. I think sometimes they cry in their car or fall apart on the bathroom floor. I think sometimes they bite their lip or clench their fists or take deep breaths behind my back when I walk away from them. After they just told me they were perfectly fine and after they just said they didn’t need help.

I think those same people would tell me they’ve figured out ways to mostly have it together. They take care of who and what needs taken care of and they get where they need to go. They mange and organize and prioritize. I think they would say they’ve come to terms with certain situations and maybe even accepted those situations, but that sometimes it still just sucks. I think they still sometimes ask why me or how much longer or can things just be ok. I think sometimes they ask this a lot. I think they yell and scream and lose their shit behind closed doors. I think sometimes they are sad and lonely and scared. I think sometimes they’re a hot mess.

And that’s why those people inspire me to believe that I too will be okay. I started a journey 384 days ago and every day I hope it’s over and I keep finding out it’s not. Last year I waited to hear whether or not the growth in my uterus was cancer. I thanked God and the universe it wasn’t. Today I find myself there once again. Thirteen days ago I got a call. They found something and so now I wait. Waiting to see if the new growth is cancer. Waiting to see if it’s not cancer, is it a secondary condition being caused by the hormone replacement therapy. The regimen that finally seemed to be working. Waiting to see if new methods or medications need to be tried. Wondering what side effects those might have. Waiting to see if the growths are related or if they’re coincidence or if there is no real explanation why they keep appearing.

It’s been a freaking hard 13 days. I immediately told myself to be strong. You’ve done it before. Just keep it together. I told myself over and over you can do this. I told myself to focus on the now and not worry about the tests the following week. It didn’t work. Every horrible scenario was on replay in my mind. I told myself hitting google and researching every statistic and having knowledge would bring calm. It did not. I told myself I would not let the emotions or the stress take control. It didn’t work. Not even close. I told myself I would not cry. I would be strong. I cried every single day.

But I also did something I didn’t do when this happened last year. That very first night after I got the call, I reached out to those closest to me and I didn’t hide anything. I said I’m scared. I’m worried. I’m going to need your help. I went to work and told my coworkers exactly what I would be dealing with this week. No hiding. No sugar coating. Just the truth. I said I’m optimistic, but I’m also scared. I told my boys what was going on. I answered their questions with honesty and candor. I sat in that parking lot this morning and the text I sent read, “I’m here. I’m scared. I kinda hate this.” I walked out of that facility and the first text I sent read, “I’m done. I feel good. I will be okay.”

And I will be because I too feel strong. Not the kind of strong where I have to be stoic and composed. The kind of strong where I ask for help, lean on others, and maybe fall completely apart. Not the kind of strong where I hide what’s going on. The kind of strong where I admit my fears and my struggles and everything I am worried about. Not the kind of strong where I won’t cry. The kind of strong where I will break down and cry my eyes out – by myself, with others, whenever I damn well need to. The kind of strong where I allow myself to feel every single emotion – anger and frustration and pity and just really pissed off. Hope and pride and love and just the all out absurdity of my current situation. Not the kind of strong that comes because I have it all figured out. The kind of strong that comes because I don’t and because I don’t have to. The kind of strong that’s about progress and growth and just doing a little bit better than the day before.

I do not believe I was given this life because I was strong enough to handle it. I just don’t think life works that way, but I do know I’m stronger now because of the journey I’m on and I do believe whatever lies ahead I will find the strength to face it. I think I’m right. If I’m not and life did put me on this path because I was strong enough to handle it, then I guess life thinks I’m a little badass. And really, that’s not so bad either!