Good Thing You're Strong

I swear, if one more person points out to me how strong I am, I will run shrieking into the woods and live with the deer, at least those who weren't scared off by my display of irritation. Yesterday, the guidance counselor at Rocky's school said, "Let me hug you. You are so STRONG."

I don't want to be strong. I want my best friend, my partner, my husband back here. I want this bad dream to be over, and things to go back to how they were. I want someone here to reassure me, to listen to me, to help me through the rough spots.

What do you do when your greatest source of support leaves you?

I don't want to raise these kids alone, but I must. I don't want to figure out how to get the tractor running again, to fix the ice maker, to pay bills online, to sleep alone, to do it all well enough. I don't want to face every day with chores, responsibilities, and duties and not have my own personal needs met.

I don't want to be strong, but what other choice is there? To be a blubbering mess day in and day out, hanging on people and sobbing out my misery? To stay in bed all day? To curl up in a fetal position and moan?

Not that these don't sound like viable options.

No..... I. Must. Go. On. One foot in front of the other, one more hour, one more mile, one more day. One more thing. And I have to remember this is my life, and I can spend the time I have left a slobbering mess, lying in my bedroom and staring at the ceiling, or I can get out there and do something.

I haven't even gotten out of bed this morning yet, but I hear Nita in the kitchen, most likely thinking about eggs for breakfast, Harry the dog is going to need to go outside, the chickens need to be let out of the house, and for my own sake, I need to see what this day will bring.