What's Left After

How do you define strength? What characteristics in others do you deem to be strong? Does it differ from how you define your own strength?

When it comes to our most significant characteristics, most of us are overly critical. We can admit that we have a nice smile, an infectious laugh, or a great sense of humor, all of which are important, but rarely do we compliment aspects like our resilience, emotional intelligence, or our ability to inspire others. One characteristic important to our well-being is our strength, but we struggle to recognize or define it because we judge ourselves so harshly. We judge our decisions, we judge our lifestyle, we judge how we turned out, and we judge ourselves in comparison to others.

You may have made decisions that complicated your life. You may given someone chances that didn't demonstrate behavior deserving of those chances...repeatedly. You may have given up. You may have fallen. You may have disappointed your loved ones and yourself. Strength is not the absence of questionable decisions or repeated mistakes. Strength is not the absence of giving up, falling, or disappointment. Strength is not the absence of tears, anger, or loss of control.

Strength is what pushes you after...after the mistakes and after the bad judgment. Strength is what develops after the heartache and after the feelings of hopelessness. Strength is what thrives after you push beyond the superficial and break through the pain. Strength is what comes after you free yourself from judging everything you've said, done, felt, and been. Strength is what you discover after you let go of the judgment, after you release the emotion, and after you commit to continue. Strength is what is left after and after all of the uncertainty, the choices, and the trials, what is left is you. Strength is you.

Defense

There are circumstances where defense should be expected. Providing defense is normal and necessary to advance and win in higher education, sports, and a court room. Yet what's normal in those circumstances doesn't translate to a requirement elsewhere.

For reasons stemming from religious beliefs to social media protocol, we have been trained to defend everything and require others to provide a defense to us. We've bought into the idea so heavily that we assume those without a defense, those who lack a proper one—according to an arbitrary standard, or those who flat out refuse to provide a defense are out of line. After all, those who cannot or will not defend their choices are making choices that are invalid or wrong, right?

I have made many unconventional choices. I've lived on a ship for 100 days on two occasions. I've relocated several times and didn't always have a job lined up. I haven't pursued marriage or motherhood which to some makes me less feminine, less fulfilled, or simply, less than. However, my choices have brought much more to my life than I ever anticipated. As interesting, outlandish, and unusual as they may seem, my choices were right for me then and continue to sustain me now. I'd much rather spend my time and energy planning my next adventure than defending my adventure.

Those who require a well-versed, eloquent explanation will not hear your heart. Those who demand traditional, scripture-laden reasoning cannot feel your spirit. Those who need to be convinced of your relevance do not completely see you. This is your life. It is not a dissertation. It is not a game. It is not a trial. If you are confident in your choices, live in that confidence. Trust yourself and know that you are not required to justify, explain, nor defend. You have value. You have worth. Your life matters simply because you exist and there is no defense needed for that.

How Did I Get Here?

I attended a workshop where participants were asked how they arrived at their place of employment. I listened to my neighbor’s story and then shared my own. Both of us had a similar sentiment—it wasn’t a haphazard or random arrival. All of us arrive where we are because of a series of choices and actions, but we don't often fully understand how our choices and actions guided us to our present life until we look through the lens of reflection.

Being a newbie at my job I am often asked where I was prior. My story is a bit complicated and at a glance, it appears random and disjointed. It may seem that I lack focus and commitment or that I chase life instead of live it. I will admit that there were times when I couldn’t see the thread because I was solely focused on what was directly in front of me. Yet through the lens of reflection, there has always been a thread of commonality that served as my compass.

I’m sure you have had moments where all you could see was what you were directly facing—times when you couldn’t decipher a life track or even a consistent direction. You may have even asked yourself, “How did I get here?” ‘Here’ could be a job, a location, a point in a relationship, a role, or an obligation. 'Here' could also represent a financial status or an emotional state. Whatever your ‘here’ is, there is a common thread. Think about your decisions and how you typically come to make them. Evaluate your spending and saving habits. Examine those you’ve permitted to be in your inner circle. Consider what you surround yourself with, what you let permeate your mood (types of music, television shows, activities, books, etc.) and why. You will find that there are threads connecting all of your choices.

There is always room for improvement so if you need to make adjustments, make adjustments. If you find yourself in need of an overhaul, please know that you must stop beating yourself up. What’s done is done. All you can do now is start today. Pinpoint what has been driving your decisions and evaluate what/who you can use as inspiration—your children, images of a better future, etc.—to redirect the foundation for your decision-making. What you’ll discover over time is that even periods of redirection are merely additional threads in the story of how you get where you are destined to arrive. The story isn’t over yet. Make it an exceptional one.