I am tired of being a strong woman today.
There, I said it.
I have carried my children, my husband, my family and my friends for so long. I give everything I have to them all.
I spend at least 36 hours a week caring for my patients and when I come home at night, I tend to feel empty.
I am tired and my back hurts.
Some would argue that finding inner happiness depends on relying on one’s own sense of ’strength of self.’
Some might say that depending on those outside of us to help us find what we lack inside is a measure of neediness, codependence, or some otherwise identified basic fault.
Is it wrong to admit, as a person and a woman, that there are times when it necessary to be the one carried, instead of the one doing the carrying?
Is it safe to admit when the burden seems too heavy, and the steps too steep?
The fear, at least for me, is that admitting a need and having no one fill it is worse than keeping quiet about it. Better to soldier on through, little cowgirl. Buck up, take it like a woman.
Inside it feels like a highwire act. How much of me is left, and how can I best spread it around?
People call it looking for balance.
I call it being tired.
I am tired of being a strong woman today.
I watched the waves crash on the beach. The moonlight rippled on the unsettled water and I licked salt-flavored lips. Even up here on the 10th floor, I could feel the pull of the ocean, the magic of the tides.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked him. We were both leaning our elbows against the balcony railing, our shoulders just a few electric inches from each other.
“Yeah,” he said distractedly, not looking away from the water.
I was silent, allowing the rhythm of the waves to calm my mind and settle my frayed nerves.
I stole a sideways glance at him. He was still starting out at the ocean, his brow slightly furrowed and lips pursed.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He shrugged and turned to me. “Yeah, I guess. Just thinking.”
I nodded. I understood how the ocean could pull at one’s mind, churn up thoughts from one’s own hidden depths. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He looked away quick to the left, towards the water, and then back again. I felt a catch when our eyes met. I could see the wall go up in his thoughts. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “It’s nothing. Work stuff.”
“Ah,” I said, turning away so I wouldn’t have to be faced with his boundaries. “Ok.”
We were silent but for the sound of the waves as they crashed higher. High tide would be coming soon, and the wind was picking up. Somewhere in the darkness a gull screeched. I shivered.
“Are you cold?” He asked.
“A bit,” I said, surprised into honesty by the fact that he had noticed.
“Here,” he said and reached his arm out.
Almost against my own will, I allowed him to put his arm around my shoulders. I felt the heat of his hand on my upper arm and I smelled a hint of his deodorant and shampoo. I slowly felt myself relax.
“Better?” he asked, smiling at me.
“Yeah,” I said, returning the smile.
We turned simultaneously back towards the waves as they crashed higher up the beach, lost in our own thoughts as the sand was slowly swallowed by the rising tide.
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