Recently I have been taking note of the strong women that
have made an impact on me. The women who get no recognition for their roles or
their importance. On the outside they pose as ordinary, but they are actually
super heroes in disguise. These are the women who get shit done no matter the circumstance
and with very little fanfare. The ones who aren’t afraid to be genuine in spite
of criticism and gossip. They hold it together, but let a few souls peer into
their truths. I feel honored to be trusted with those truths.
I’ve always been a very guarded person. Until recently I
really didn’t let anyone see the unedited version of me. Not even my family
knew that I was a total screw up in full costume and theatrical makeup.
Fade in:
In the small town
of Mansfield, Missouri, where nothing ever happens, resides ordinary, boring,
mother of three who predictably follows an uneventful routine.
Scene.
I’m not one to tell another person’s story. If someone else
where to write mine, I am completely positive that their spin on my life would
be much different than my own version. So these are my observations of how I
view some pretty fascinating women who probably would file themselves in the
category of Typical.
The Stepmom: No, not mine. That’s a whole book in itself.
The stepmom that I admire is the one who co-parented someone else’s kids. She
took the responsibility without receiving the praise. She considered herself
selfish for not bearing children when society told her that her value is
measured in procreation. She jokingly refers to herself as Step Monster, but it’s
no secret that she would jump in front of a bus for those kids, and they think
that she’s the bee’s knees.
Wonder Woman: This is the one who smiles through
unimaginable, physical pain. She sees her body betraying her and she chooses to
keep going; making other women feel beautiful even when she can’t find relief
from her many ailments. She’s witty and smart; hilariously funny and dry. When
I whine about a “migraine” which is actually just an over exaggerated headache,
I think of my friend who struggles every day to be upright.
Pugilist: Ok, I didn’t really know this word. I typed “ninja”
into the thesaurus and it’s pretty much the same thing. Fighter. One of my most
revered heroines is tough as nails and basically a super ninja. She pushes her
body and her mind to be stronger and more capable than she ever thought
possible. She is brave enough to document her journey in hopes of cleansing
herself and helping those like her. Her determination shows me that my excuses
are weak and that I will always have areas of my life that I can improve. And
she could totally kick my ass.
The Visionary: This woman reached out to me when I thought
that I wanted no part in having true friends. I saw friendship as work; she saw
me as potential. She showed me that life could be fun and that dreams are worth
chasing. Change is scary, but in actuality, living a stagnant life is scarier.
You are never too old to start a new adventure.
Soul Sister: Old acquaintances can develop into the deepest
friendships. This woman already knew the shell of me which is really no more or
no less than I let anyone see. In looking through some long forgotten papers
from childhood, she found a prayer list that she had penned at age 10. I was at
the top of her list. We accidentally reconnected and discovered that our souls
are made of the same invisible matter. She is me as much as I am her. She
encourages me to keep moving when I find myself in the valley; when my inner
voice torments me with insults. She knows because she undoubtedly sees me.
My Katie: Ok, so now I’m naming names. Yes, she is my
daughter and she is amazing in spite of it. When I was pretending to be super
mom she saw through the act, even at an early age. She knew that the smile was
fake and that I used every ounce of my energy on appearing normal. I see so
much of myself in her, but I can love every ounce of my girl. She is quirky and
enlightened; free-spirited but with remarkable depth and understanding of the
universe. She has taught me that conversations should be real and that sometimes
the truth hurts, and it’s not the end of the world.
Self-discovery is horrifying. That is a very bland
description for a gigantic axiom. Residing in shallow waters and small talk feels safe. No one drowns in my depth and everybody is comfortable. I still fear awkwardness;
silences that need to be filled with meaningless noise. I’ve convinced myself
that my ability to bullshit my way through most situations is a true gift; like
it’s something special when all the while the majority of humanity is using my
same tactic as a coping mechanism. When my “give-a-damn” finally broke, I
opened my eyes to the authentic beings who stood out from the crowd. Not in an
obvious, “Hey, I’m not wearing a bra” kind of way, but in a subtle aura of
individuality and tenacity. I am grateful for these women and I needed to write
it; to let them know while I’m in a good place. I hope to reside here for
longer periods of time, but nothing in life is promised.
