I came from a long line of strong women. A great grandmother, Nannie, that was left by her family during the Russian Revolution and found her way back to the US when she was 18. A Nana who was an orphan, had 6 children, lost 1 of them, was married to a man that lived a dual life and gave her family everything they needed. A grandma who was the only english speaking member of her household, witnessed her brother get hit by a car, survived the death of her two sons and worked herself to the bone to cultivate a talented woman like my mom.
These women were strong. They held it all together during times where I'm sure falling apart was just a breath away. As hard as I have tried, breaking through the barrier of strength isn't an option for them. Uncovering the trauma and wounds of the past could never be done in front of me.
Somehow, I wasn't given that gene. I can't hold back my tears and questions. All of my fears and hurt are so in front of my face that whenever they come up I grab my pen and paper and begin to write. They sit in my stomach until I eat them away or express them.
I have been told that I am the voice of all of the stronger women in my life who didn't feel vulnerable enough to speak.
Nannie, I carry your dark state of mind sometimes and I promise you that I will be the voice to heal people.
Nana, I will marry a good man and always do the best for my children.
Grandma, I work myself to the bone just like you but I will create the new pattern of loving myself most before anything else.
Those who feel like me, we are amongst the strong women that we look up to. We are strong even though classically our tears are seen as weak. We are the revolution of strength and strong women.
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