There’s the saying: Adversity makes you stronger. It’s the phrase that helps all of us barrel through hardship. Of course we’ll come through the other side a stronger and more resilient person – yes, yes. We imagine ourselves encapsulated in thick coats of iron – nothing can touch us – able to withstand gale force winds, pain, and disappointment. We scoff at the rest of those people with pristine and happy lives, who lay vulnerable to the world’s uncertainties.
With everything that has happened in my life, the adoption, racism as a child, seizures, mother’s incessant screaming and alcoholism, never-ending anxiety, and eating disorder, I reiterated in my mind that I was becoming a stronger, more well rounded person. The years of pain had to be worth something. But now, I look around at all these wonderful and well adjusted girls around me, with their perfect families, happy lives, and I am starting to wonder: am I really stronger, or am I just damaged beyond repair?
I feel like I’m locked away behind a million iron layers, too confined, too confused, too lost to find my way out or anyone to find their way in, to see me, to touch me, or to relate to me. Perhaps the years of constant stuff has just chipped away too much of me.
I have good weeks and bad weeks, weeks where anxiety consumes every ounce of my body, sleep evades me, eating becomes a war, and life is just difficult. I have days where memories seep back in like random hit and runs, leaving me crying in the shower, my car, the kitchen…
Meanwhile, these girls who have grown up in glass houses with loving families and a wealth of support and happiness seem to have the confidence, strength, and demeanor to take on the world. They float when they walk and smile with ease, their biggest worry finding a job after University, making tee time at the local golf club, or the next horse show. They have things together, while I’m falling apart.
I was never a bitter person. Whatever happens will happen and you simply must deal with it. But it’s hard. It’s hard to watch these girls and women waft by me all smiles and not wish I was charmed with their lives. And not chastise myself for just simply pulling myself together, sucking it up, and being as happy as them. As if it was that simple. And not be bitter that my life was that simple.
So, does adversity create strength or just cause damage?
Maybe Tomorrow... 