For one day, I would love to fall apart.

To lock myself in my room, turn the lights down low, and let myself fall apart. To have a pity party of the utmost ridiculous, and to have a full on cry fest. And not the pretty cry you see on TV. Oh no. I’m talking about snot running down my face, red puffy eyes, wailing… The kind of ugly cry that makes everyone feel so incredibly awkward as they walk past. They wonder what happened to you, if you’re crazy, or if they should call someone. For one day, I would love to be that person.

I’ve always been the strong one in my family. Resilient. Bullheaded. Independent. Strong willed and extremely stubborn. I don’t cave easily to peer pressure, and I have absolutely zero problem in telling someone what they can do with themselves if they are out of line. I’m also very blunt, and I refuse to sugarcoat things. My mom likes to tell me that when I don’t want to do something or I don’t like something, not even a category five hurricane or an EF5 tornado could move me. It’s funny, but it’s not. I was born in May, which makes me a Taurus. The zodiac sign of a Taurus is a bull. Go figure.

But sometimes, it’s really tiring to always be the strong one. The resilient one. The one who, no matter what happens in life, always seems to have her head on straight and knows where she’s headed in life. The one who, no matter what life throws at her, has this annoying ability to bounce back and keep moving. I know there are people out there who will say “I wish I could do that,” or “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” or “Be thankful that you can do that because there are so many people who can’t.”

I know. And when I start to think that I might fall apart, something deep down inside rises to the surface and says, “No. You don’t get to fall apart today. Keep moving.” So I do. Head up, shoulders back, boobs out. Ready to take on the world.

There are many days I feel as though I just want to lay down my sword and stop fighting.

Sometimes I would just love to fall apart, because even the strong grow tired and weary of fighting. Sometimes I would just like to stop moving and take a breath. But life doesn’t work that way. There are days that I wish I could shed this giant shield of impenetrable armor and let someone else carry it for a while.

I might seem like one of those girls who has it together and knows where she is going and where she wants to be in life, but in reality, I’m stumbling. There are days when it seems as if I have no clear sense of direction. I don’t know where I’m going. And then there are days when I do have it all figured out. It’s frustrating. I would love to whine and cry and complain, but that tiny little voice keeps telling me, “No. You can’t do that. You don’t get to fall apart so keep moving.” So I do.

Maybe it’s all just part of being an adult. Or maybe it comes with the territory of being an only child in a single parent household. Growing up, it was just my mom and I. We couldn’t rely on extended family to help out during the hard times. I’m so used to doing things on my own and not asking anyone for help. But there are days when I wish that I could ask someone to carry the load for a while. To take a moment and step back. To take a moment and breathe. But I can’t.

Where most people would fall apart, I push on and keep going. Life doesn’t stop just because you’re tired. And believe me, I’m tired. I’m so tired that I would like to throw my hands in the air and say “Okay. That’s it.” And yet, I can’t. Call it “inner strength”, call it the “Wonder Woman within”, call it whatever you want. Something inside will not let me give up and fall apart. No matter how badly I would like to.

For one day, I would just love to fall apart. To fall to my knees and scream. To cry and have the biggest pity party that the world has ever seen. But I can’t.

It’s not because I have no emotion or that I’m a robot. I feel just like everyone else, but for someone reason my “fall apart meter” just doesn’t work. My “I don’t give a crap” meter works perfectly fine, but the other one barely works at all. It takes something truly catastrophic for it to budge even an inch. Why? I have no idea.

What I do know is that sometimes, even the strong grow tired and weary. We are battle worn, bruised, and cracked. We have many scars that tell a story, both inside and out. One thing we are not is broken. We may grow tired and weary of shouldering the weight, feeling as though our every move will result in either success or failure, and inwardly terrified to walk that line, though we try hard not to show it on the outside.

Even the strong grow tired and weary. There are many days I feel as though I just want to lay down my sword and stop fighting. To give in to the tired and weary feeling weighing me down. But like the rest of my fellow warriors, I refuse to give up and I refuse to give in.