Lately, it has been hot, so I decided to do something that would make life a little easier. I cooked a bunch of different meals in the crock pot, put them into containers, and froze them. That way, when the weather is hot, I wouldn't have to do much cooking. Then a flyer came in from the local Mexican market. They had pineapples, plantains, mangoes, watermelon, cucumbers—fresh fruits and vegetables at really good prices. They also had beef shanks. So after the gym, I had my caretaker take me to the store. I already had plenty of food at home. I had meals in the freezer, food in the refrigerator, and everything I needed. I wasn't going to the store because I was running out of food. But when I got there, something happened. I felt happy. The store was colorful and full of fresh food. I could choose one of this, two of that, three of something else. I wasn't limited to whatever quantity happened to come in a package. I could actually look at what I wanted and decide what I wa...
People love to tell me how strong I am. They see what I've survived—trauma, loss, surgeries, fear, recovery, financial stress, heartbreak, and the countless times I've had to rebuild my life—and they call me strong.
I never asked to be strong.
I didn't wake up and choose a life where I would have to keep rebuilding myself over and over again.
I didn't choose to be the one who has to rely on independence through survival. I didn't choose to be the one who keeps getting back up when there's no guarantee of support waiting on the other side.
A lot of the time, I didn't want to do it on my own.
But I didn't get a choice in that part.
Not because I set out to be strong.
But because I kept going anyway.
I kept going anyway, and I stayed kind and loving through it.
Real strength isn't about being hard, unshakable, or emotionally shut down.
Real strength is staying kind without becoming weak.
And honestly? That's harder than people think.
When people tell me, "You're so strong," I know they usually mean it as a compliment.
But sometimes it feels dismissive.
Because what I often hear underneath those words is:
"You'll be fine."
"You can handle it."
"I don't need to worry about you."
"You don't need support because you've got this."
And that's the hard part about being the strong one.
People see your resilience, but they don't always see the cost of it.
They don't see the fear, the pain, the exhaustion, the grief, or the moments when you're barely holding it together.
In the hospital, I was put on psychiatric medications because someone believed my tears meant something was wrong that needed to be fixed.
I wasn't asking to be medicated. I wasn't trying to escape my feelings.
I wanted to feel all of it.
The grief.
The anger.
The fear.
The sadness.
Because I'm human, and I'm allowed to have emotions about losing a leg and having my entire life turned upside down.
I didn't need my feelings taken away.
I needed the space to have them.
And sometimes being called "strong" can feel the same way.
As if there's no room for the messy parts.
No room for the breakdowns.
No room for the fear, the anger, the pain, or the grief.
As if being strong means I don't get to be human.
But strength doesn't erase my humanity.
I still hurt.
I still grieve.
I still have bad days.
I still need love, support, comfort, and kind words.
And it's okay if I cry.
Because crying doesn't make me weak.
Crying means I'm healing.
I'm processing.
I'm grieving.
I'm being human.
And I'm allowed to feel every bit of it.
So if you tell someone they're strong, don't stop there.
Tell them you see how hard they've had to fight.
Tell them you're proud of them.
Tell them they're loved.
Ask them how they're really doing.
Sit with them in the hard moments.
Because sometimes the strongest people are carrying the heaviest burdens in silence.
And sometimes, more than anything, we just want permission to put our guard down and be human.
If my story, healing journey, or honesty has touched you in some way, and you’d like to support my continued recovery and rebuilding process after multiple surgeries and ongoing challenges from my accident, you can donate to my GoFundMe here: GOFUNDME LINK
Every donation, share, message, and act of support truly helps more than you know. Thank you for being part of this journey with me.
strength, resilience, trauma recovery, healing journey, surviving adversity, emotional strength, personal resilience, kindness through pain, life rebuilding, mental strength
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