I went to bed last night with thoughts about being weak rolling around in my head. They came from an episode of Red Table Talk I watched yesterday. It really hit home for me. This is for sure one of the things I struggle with. Why as a woman do I feel I have to be strong all the time? Why am I okay to cry in front of my husband and sons when it is about a TV show or sad story on the internet, but not when it’s my own pain.
Why is authentic and vulnerable emoting so fucking hard for me?
I know growing up I was a very sensitive soul. I felt a LOT. I honestly don’t remember if I was able or even comfortable with expressing that. What I do know is I come from a long line of strong women. I don’t recall with the exception of funerals much emotion from anyone. It was as if everything was okay all the time. I don’t recall seeing my mom cry more than a handful of times in my life. I am sure she cried more than that, but I don’t recall witnessing it. I also don’t remember ever seeing my mom angry. I know as a parent she surely was, but she must have expressed it behind closed doors. It was as if, to me as a child, she had her shit together all the time.
Now being an adult, a mom and working full time, as my mom did my whole life, I know this simply cannot be true. My guess is that behind those closed doors there were many times when she cried or raged with frustration or overwhelm. But I NEVER saw that. I am sure that is because she protected me from it.
By osmosis what I learned was that I must be strong and put together. I learned that it is important to appear like all is okay all the time. I know this not my mom’s intention. It was what she learned. My grandmother Hazel was one tough cookie. Loving and caring, but not in a warm and fuzzy way. At least not in my memory. As a child I was somewhat intimidated by her strength and presence.
Generational conditioning. We learn what we see and experience. Children model what we do, not necessarily what we say. If I tell my boys it is safe to express their feelings but I don’t model that by sharing mine, it does not ring true in their hearts. It is work for me to be vulnerable and weak. Even writing the word weak I went back to edit it to something else. That is how uncomfortable I am with weak. It really isn’t a bad word…. I recall a time when I actually got angry with my husband for telling my son not to bother me or ask me for anything because I wasn’t well. He told him to just let me rest. I was really struggling with my health and my husband was trying to support me. My first thought was this: How dare you tell my son I am weak. I can take care of things. How fucked up is that? I got angry at him for trying to help me because I couldn’t stand to seem weak or vulnerable.
Life and our unfolding is not linear. It is a long series of ups and downs. That is most definitely how my experience with being vulnerable has been. Sometimes I move past my programming with ease and other times I have push past it with clenched fists and gritted teeth. Such is the journey of life and growth. It’s a rollercoaster ride. One that most days I find the clarity to be grateful for. I share this because I sense that many women have, between family and culture, taken on similar beliefs. The more we share, the less we feel alone.
PS. For those who are wondering if this will hurt my mom’s feelings or make her feel bad, she was the first one I sent it to. I would not have shared it without her okay. But you see we are healing together which is a beautiful thing. She, as always, told me to share if that is what I am feeling called to do. I sure do LOVE my mom. As for Hazel, she and I have a better relationship now than we did when she was on this plane. She is with me often as are my other female ancestors. Her energy feels different now that she’s crossed over. More soft and loving. We are all good.