I am the mighty, the un breakable. I am a juggernaut of determination and passion. I am undeterred in my pursuits, and fierce. I am also vulnerable. My body sometimes slips from motion despite my agenda and into the embrace of a struggle. Today I fought against the rising tide of pain inside. It had been coming on slowly for a couple of days and I wanted to ignore the symptoms and force past the flaring. I hiked, I ran, I walked. I rested and told myself that my ear was in tune with the voice inside, and that voice declared “I am the mighty”.
But my legs grew heavier. My feet became clumsier. My hands grew steadily harder to manipulate and my frustration grew in proportion to the discomfort swaddling my spine. I ran errands and poured a green smoothie into myself and tried to ignore my constant stumbling through the store and out into the parking lot, but by the time I got home after picking up the kids, it was all that I could to do climb onto the couch and pull up thick blankets. I am the mighty. My son pulled up a chair, gabbed the guitar and leaned over an kissed my head. “I’ll play you to sleep.” And he did. I drifted off to the sounds of him strumming something he had playing out in his mind and I recalled every moment I kissed a child’s head, pulled them close and whispered “I’ll sing you to sleep” when they needed comfort. I slept for the rest of the day and woke to dark skies, warm candlelight, laughter and teasing from the kitchen and crawled towards them. I am the mighty and I won’t miss out on my life, even if I have to give in and be human. I am the mighty.