Feeling--blah
Reading-- Fortune's Fool by Mercedes Lackey
Listening to-- nothing

I missed the last two Disability Blog Carnivals, but I don't aim to miss this one. This time it's over at Reimer Reason on the 10th of this month, and the "winning theme" is The Hardest Part. I read Jodi's blog just now, curious to see what she had to say about the theme, and she likened us all to diamonds in the rough.

"A diamond is the ultimate gemstone, having few weaknesses and many strengths. Formed under pressure, the diamond is the hardest substance found in nature. There is nothing on earth that is stronger, more durable and enduring than diamonds. An uncut diamond represents the untapped potential that lies in all of us."

My attention was also caught by another post she wrote recently. It was a response to a fellow blogger's post, in which this question: How has what I've been through this year affected my understanding of what it is to be a strong woman? was raised.

Good question. And very thought-provoking. This would be a good question for the end of the year as well. Perhaps I shall revisit it around New Year's Eve for a re-evaluation... But for now...though the year is young yet, already my life has changed forever. You see, for those of you who don't regularly read my blog, a best friend died two months ago from an accidental overdose of pain medication; she was only 30-years-old. She had moved back home several years ago from Tennessee to get her life back in order...and to get away from the wrong kind of "friends." After she'd been back a while we renewed our friendship--we'd been friends since she was five or six and I was seven or eight; long time, eh? When I met her again some years ago, she had changed so much! She was happier, more self-confident, a go-getter and very disciplined. She was quite the example of someone who was striving to reach her full potential. She even pushed me to be better myself.

Then two things happened, and not for the better. First her youngest brother came for a visit, intending to clean up his act as she had. But for him it did not go so well. He was lonely and miserable, and though he did have a desire to change, the brother lacked the willpower. He also treated her like a maid and secretary in her own home. He was rude, lazy and downright selfish. His being here was the worst thing for my friend's self-esteem, I hate to say, but it's true. She became sick and so depressed and miserable she had a nervous breakdown. She had to move out of her own home for a while and in with family friends until her brother went back home.

The second bad thing that happened occurred later that summer, during her visit to Tennessee. She had begun to recover from the breakdown she'd had, but still wasn't the upbeat person from before. She wanted to see her mother and sister and friends. I could understand wanting to see her family, but I couldn't fathom why she wanted to see her Tennessee "homeboys and girls" as she called them. Not if they were the same ones whose influence she'd moved to Idaho to escape from. Her mother, later after Christina's funeral, said she'd (my friend) hoped to show them how good she was doing, and hoped possibly to be a positive influence on them. Sadly it was a vain hope, and they caused her more trouble. Enough that she faltered. When she came back three, four months later it was like the light and life had been sucked out of her. She was not the same bright, beautiful and confident soul I'd known a year before.

But she knew who she'd been before, knew she had the potential to be a better person, because she'd been that woman already. And she knew what she needed to do to be that person again. *thinks* No, she would never be that woman again, but an even better person because of her experiences. And like before, she had the desire and the willpower to change herself for the better. It didn't happen overnight, but of course, nothing worthwhile in life comes too easily. It took months, and, towards the end of her life, Christina had done it again. There was light and life in her soul and happiness shining in her eyes. She was indeed a much better and stronger woman than before.

Her death was totally unexpected, and I guess that's what's so hard about it. She should have had 60, 70 more years left. It's just knowing she's no longer across the street, knowing I now have to have one-sided convos with her, knowing I won't see her again for however long before I die that's hard.

But the hardest part about all of this? It's knowing I'm not living up to her example. She once told me after the horrific accident she was in ten years ago that took her leg and nearly her life, that memories of me were what helped her through several surgeries and rehab and physical therapy. She kept telling herself that if I could deal with my disability cheerfully for the most part, then she could deal with her's the same way. And now the shoe's on the other foot. *smiling, remembering Christina's love of shoes* She's the example I need in being a better person. But it's so hard! I thought I'd finally accepted and was dealing with her passing all right, but I dunno what's happened really. I'm faltering, and I can't remember why. I don't even remember when it began! All I know is she probably would be disappointed and give me a pep talk on doing better, doing what I need to do to be the woman she and I both know I can become.

I miss her so much.

But to answer the above question, How has what I've been through this year affected my understanding of what it is to be a strong woman? Being strong means picking yourself up no matter how many times you're knocked down. Being strong means pushing yourself to the limit and then a lil bit beyond that. Being strong means never giving up, never admitting defeat. There will be times when you'll have to retreat, but, that's not the same as quiting. Being strong means standing firm, being your own rock when it seems no one is there for you to lean on in the face of adversity.

For almost my whole adult life I've known I'm a strong individual. I have my inner sunshine (optimism) after all. *smiles* Not to mention my other O: obstinance. I know I can just about handle anything--well, let's say a lot. I'm a survivor. And a survivor has to be strong. Correction: A survivor is strong. A survivor is someone who, when he/she falters, gets right back up and goes on...even when he/she just wants to lie where he/she has fallen and give up.

I guess it's time to pick myself back up, eh?

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Worlds of Yesterday...
08-18-2009 ¡ Robert the Bruce's Palace Unearthed?
08-22-2009 ¡ Quiz: Know Your Celtic Myths
08-23-2009 ¡ To-Do List For This Week
08-24-2009 ¡ Faerie Tales
08-26-2009 ¡ Favorite Links

moon phase