Stepping up. That’s what my family has been doing since I went in for surgery yesterday morning. As a mom and wife, I have always felt it my role to hold things together. If I’m hurt or not feeling well, I tend to adopt this stoic persona that I’m fine. But my family knows better. They can see when I’m not feeling well, despite my best efforts to hide that from them.
Why do I feel compelled to be stoic? Because I’ve always thought that for my children to see me hurt, really hurt or my husband to see me that way would make them afraid. Why? Because most have nicknamed me superwoman. And no one likes to see that superwoman can lose her strength even if it’s to kryptonite.
But going into this surgery, I adopted a new mentality, driven by the well-wishing suggestions of loving friends. No longer intent on trying to maintain that superwoman image, I vowed that I would let my family see my pain and give them my trust to take over for me and help with my care. And you know what? Instead of being frightened by my showing my humanness, they seem to be grateful. Thankful for the opportunity to give back for all the years I’ve helped them. To show me that they can. That they are capable of taking the helm even in choppy waters.
And so, with my family guiding me, and me allowing them to do so, I know that I’ll heal much quicker than I would if I attempted the impossible—to maintain my status quo.
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