Please Stop Telling Me How Strong I Am... I'm Not


Please Stop Telling Me How Strong I Am... I'm Not

I really wish people would stop telling me how strong I am -- I would rather someone just gave me a hug, told me it was going to be okay, and then stepped up and took care of everything.

Because you see, I'm not strong - not really. I studied acting, my family is rich in New England stiff-upper-lip-ness -- I am REALLY good at masking. REALLY good at shutting of the emotional and stuffing it into a box on a shelf in my mental castle. I did it when my husband died suddenly and I had to deal with the first funeral I had ever attended -- planning it, deciding everything, and living through it. I shut off the emotional part of me and dealt with it.

That isn't strength in my book -- it's denial. It's unfeeling. Meanwhile everything inside that box on that shelf is screaming bloody murder to get out -- to scream, cry, and destroy something. But I can't let it out.

Real strength would let it out, let it wash over me and embrace it.

Yesterday, Mom was breathing poorly and looked a little panicked so we went to the ER. They admitted her. Pneumonia (via aspiration). Today, was a flurry of social workers, palliative care people, therapists and tests. The chaplain, the palliative care worker, the social worker, the nurses.... all kept telling me how strong I am and have been.

I wanted to scream.

When Mom is discharged, she is going to the care facility. She isn't coming home.

She didn't get to open her Mother's Day card.

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So heartbreaking for you, Cat. I'm thinking of you and your mom. I'm so grateful you keep us posted. Let us know how you're doing when you can.


Thinking of you both today, CatKBorn.


It’s so terrible and I’am so sorry.