What I Thought Strength Meant
For a long time, I thought being strong meant getting through things without letting them break me.
I’ve experienced more loss and change than I ever imagined I would. I lost my mum when I was 16. Years later, I lost my sister, and then my dad. I was there in their final days, and those experiences changed me in ways I’m still discovering.
Decisions I Never Expected to Face
Losing my sister also changed the way I looked at my own future. I discovered I carry the BRCA2 gene, and that meant making decisions about my own body and my own risk that no 30-year-old should really have to think about.
I chose risk-reducing surgery, including a bilateral mastectomy and having my ovaries removed. It meant early menopause, and it meant saying goodbye to parts of myself before I was ready to.
But there was something incredibly powerful about it too.
I was still here.
Working Out Who I Am
I became a mum, built a career as an oncology nurse, got married, divorced, and eventually found myself single again after twenty years of being with the same person. I had to work out who I was when I wasn’t somebody’s wife, when I wasn’t simply surviving the next difficult thing, and when I couldn’t hide behind being the fiercely independent one who could cope with anything.
And honestly?
I’m still working it out.
There have been periods where I’ve felt completely lost.
There have been days where grief has arrived out of nowhere.
There have been moments where I’ve questioned myself, my choices and what the future is supposed to look like.
Becoming Someone New
But I’ve also discovered that healing doesn’t necessarily look like becoming the person you were before.
Sometimes it looks like becoming someone new.
For me, that has meant doing things that scare me. Moving house and creating somewhere that feels like a sanctuary. Finding my piano again. Wanting to pick up my dad’s guitar.
Returning to church after many years away from faith. Saying yes to adventures I once would have talked myself out of. And learning that I don’t have to have everything figured out before I take the next step.
Changing the Question
One thing that has stayed with me is the idea:
“It’s not I can’t… it’s how can I?”
It doesn’t mean I can do everything.
It doesn’t mean things don’t hurt.
It simply changes the question.
Instead of “Why is this happening to me?” sometimes I can ask, “Okay… what can I do with where I am now?”
I’m still fiercely independent.
I’m still a bit stubborn.
I still have days where I put my armour back on.
But underneath that, I’m finding the softer version of me again too.
Coping Doesn’t Mean You’re Okay
The biggest thing I would say to anyone going through something difficult is this:
“You don’t have to be okay just because you are coping.
You don’t have to know how the story ends.
And you don’t have to turn your pain into something inspirational for it to matter.”
Some days, surviving is enough. Some days, getting out of bed is enough. And sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit that you aren’t okay and let somebody stand beside you.
Learning to Live Alongside Grief
I used to think that the difficult things in my life had taken pieces of me away.
Now I think they have also taught me how precious those pieces are.
There is still grief.
There is still fear.
There are still waves that catch me completely off guard.
But I’m learning to trust that the wave will pass.
And I’m learning to live again anyway.
If someone reading this is somewhere in the middle of their own storm, I don’t have a perfect answer for you.
I can only tell you this:
“You are still here.
There is still more life to live.
You don’t have to see the whole path.
Just take the next step.”
And somewhere along the way, I’ve learned to hold onto four simple words:
All will be well.
Ruth
