I am strong. Yep. Not the kind of strong that could kick anyone's ass; but the kind of strong that can take a licking and keep on ticking. I've taken some lickings. THAT is a huge understatement. I've had my heart torn to shreds... over and over and over again. Those who know me, know what I'm talking about. I've lost everything... and then lost everything again. I've had my name dragged through the mud by some who claimed to "love" me. I've been blackmailed, slandered, snitched out, held hostage, threatened, physically abused, sexually abused, spiritually abused, verbally abused, but I'd have to say that the worst abuse was the emotional. My mantra during this time was "Keep kicking 'til you're dead"... meaning never give up... never surrender. It was the single thought that saw me through a relationship with someone whose main goal in life, it seemed, was to systematically destroy me piece by piece and bit by bit.
I used to hate the fact that I was strong. When was it MY turn to have the luxury of completely falling apart and letting someone else pick up the pieces? There were days I didn't think I could go on; days when I felt as if I'd been hanging by the end of my rope for too long; days when I felt completely backed into a corner and trapped; days when I felt hopeless; that the obstacles in front of me were too great and my losses were already too many. I wanted to give up. I truly did. Here's the kicker... I COULDN'T. I don't mean that I could but didn't really want to. I mean, literally, that I COULD NOT give up. Something inside simply refused to allow me to. The thought that constantly ran through my head was, "You are possessed with a power bigger than the pain." I pushed and pushed and pushed and ended up amazing myself and others in the process.
"The will to survive" can also be considered to be "the refusal to give up." ~ U.S. Army Survival Manual
I made it through all that shit. To meet me now, you'd never know... For those readers who know me, you already know. For those readers just joining me, rest assured I'm planning on blogging (read: purging) at some point about the abusive relationship I survived... spill the beans... open up that whole can of worms... you'll know where I'm coming from if you just stick around long enough. I WON my freedom with my own blood, sweat and TEARS, and I take immense pride in that fact.
Not only do I no longer begrudge my strength... I EMBRACE it. It's one of my best qualities in my humble opinion. I AM tough as nails; hard as rocks; more leathery than Robert Redford's face... Call me a cold-hearted bitch (really... I dare you to), and I'll THANK you for the compliment. I relish the fact that the shit can hit the fan and I won't fall apart. I take COMFORT in the knowledge that I will be able to handle crises without hysterics and panic. Of course I get stressed and anxious and still worry about things. Of course I dislike that life, in and of itself, is unfair and difficult. Of course I would rather bad things NOT happen to good people. But I take comfort in the fact that ~I'm smart enough... I'm strong enough... and, gosh-darn-it, I don't give a rat's ass if people don't like me!~
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