Fearless
Life has been very busy the last few days and I’m trying to slow things down a bit. Last night, I spent some time with Scout and she and I talked about the world at large.
I really dig her.
Three times I was preparing to go home and three times I got stopped. A couple of people that I went to high school with showed up and we began talking about growing up in Hooterville. Reminiscing with people I’ve known my whole life and that I see about once every two years was interesting.
Although the word “fear” wasn’t mentioned, it was the theme of what we discussed. Life is a scary place, and we talked about the “truth” as we perceived it. Working in the local public eye, we are both scrutinized quite a bit and we have learned to let it drip off our backs as much as we can. The other thing that I’ve learned about Scout is she is fearless in many ways. Although I can’t speak for her, it was nice just to talk and listen. We reflected, and that’s the best word I can come up with.
Aunt B. wrote in a post (I need to go find it) here about the differences between being rigid vs. being strong. It was one of those posts that I read, went about my business but kept thinking about. It snuck up on me, if you will.
I’ve known Scout since she was a kid. And over the past two and a half years, I’ve seen her confidence grow. She’s secretive (not in a bad way but in the way she just wants her business to stay her business) and I’ve seen her grow.
Why the issue of being rigid vs. strong comes to mind is that as her confidence has grown, I’ve seen her become strong and fearless and I think it’s just downright inspirational.
I am filled with women in my life who are rigid. I get it, it’s not a bad thing although it is sometimes frustrating that there are “rules” dealing on their terms, where I have had to adjust. Me, I don’t think I’m rigid although there are moments. And as for strong, as a woman, it’s hard for me to say that I’m strong without feeling like I’m trying to convince people of something. What, I don’t know. I have moments of strength and then and cry over that my dog will die someday (or something as equally odd.) The definition of strength is sometimes cloudy to me.
So where is this rambling post going? I really have no idea, but I woke up a few weeks ago and felt better after my hysterectomy and realized that I had been a hell of a lot sicker than even I knew. 2006, as Squirrelly has said on many occasions, was the suck. Rollercoaster rides of emotion at work, less staff meant more work, working while being very ill, trying to prepare for surgery, the surgery and then going back to work when it was chaotic (and going back entirely too soon) and then heading through the holidays. On top of this SQ’s dad and grandmother dying within a matter of just a couple of months.
It made me tired. Very, very tired. And now that I feel I have my footing and have returned to the ‘coma I know and love where there is some normalcy, I wonder at this juncture where I’m headed and am I strong enough to enjoy and appreciate the journey?
So last night, Scout and I talked about our journeys and our fears. She sat and listened as we laughed with a variety of people I’ve known all my life. It was a reminder of where I’ve come from and how we both are teetering at the crossroads of the future. We discussed that not everything in life is fair. We discussed that making decisions is difficult. We discussed disappointment and redemption. Forgiveness and regret. Being strong, and as women, being unapologetic about it.
And we discussed being fearless. And that, although we will never be completely without fear, we can try.
