What Strength Means to Me, by Elizabeth M.
Strength can mean all types of things: The ability to bench 60 pounds. The ability to rip a pillow in two or make a 6’4 210 pound guy’s nose bleed when you’re mad. Strength could mean the ability to forgive and forget or the acceptance of having a mental illness. Strength can even be admitting when you’re wrong when you make the most heinous mistakes.
With no excuses, I’ve dealt with a number of broken friendships due to impulse emails of how I feel if I have a problem or if I just have something on my mind. Writing is an outlet for me and I tend to “let go” when I have something to say. I go on and on and sometimes a little too far. A lot of it has dealt with the fact that I have Bipolar 1 disorder and sometimes my medications aren’t up to date or I just don’t take them properly. It’s hard to catch at the time and usually it happens when I realize a friendship is broken forever and I’ve said too much. Hopefully, one day, the friends I’ve lost can have the strength to forgive and forget. After realizing who my real friends are and those who do and don’t understand my side of the story and sometimes those who don’t want to hear it I’ve realized strength is a scary thing. To admit when you’re wrong isn’t so hard for me but to share it with other people takes more than the ability to bench 60 pounds and I’d rather rip a pillow in half than say sorry.
For me, I’ve learned strength is a part of life. I’ve learned even people with the most strength can fall. No matter how much strength I have, sometimes, I miss the shots I take. But no matter what happens, I always jump back into the ring of life and keep fighting one jab at a time…