I love to remind you how strong and courageous you are.  I choose these adjectives for two reasons: one--I know they are true about you and two--this disease tries (and sometimes succeeds) at making us feel weak and helpless. But if you’re the type of woman like me who always feels like she has to be strong, who takes problems head on and is constantly looking for solutions, sometimes, just sometimes, being strong and courageous is NOT the best answer right away. For most of my life I have been considered the strong one in the family.  When I am hurt I don’t usually cry or hide. I usually confront the situation or person.  When I see injustice I speak up (especially for my kids) and I don’t have a problem taking on other people's issues and helping in any way I can. And most of the time this works for me. But every now and then I see a really soft, tender-hearted person who dares to be vulnerable and I get jealous (that was embarrassing to admit). I am thinking of a certain woman whom I went to dinner with.  During the entire dinner she was soft spoken.  She was a wonderful listener and only contributed when she had value to add.  She was petite and tender. Even her soft pastel clothing was innocent looking. I know when she gets hurt she cries.  She explains her feelings with an open heart and vulnerability. And everyone melts. And this is where I get jealous.  Because nobody really feels sorry for the strong ones.  I can’t tell you the number of times I have struggled in my life and my parents told me, “I don’t worry about you Michelle. I know you can take care of yourself.” And a part of me is flattered they think I’m so capable and a part of me wants them to worry a little. Being strong and courageous are virtues that I would never ever want to give up.  But this woman at lunch reminded me that it’s also important for us to be soft and allow ourselves to fall apart when we need to. To pause for half an hour, half a day or half a month and just cry.  Let it out.  I don’t need to immediately pick up the pieces every time right away. I might need to let myself sit in the pain on the bathroom floor for a moment.  Let my heart open up to the struggle and be really daring. Let someone I trust see me falling apart. And even say “Yes, please!” if someone kindly offers to help me instead of always being in control. I asked my Secret Facebook Group how they felt about the idea of allowing ourselves to take a break from being strong and courageous and this is what they said (they are soo wise): I will never use names - privacy is our most important priority.  Always. “I feel like I'm saying a lot lately ‘there is beauty in the breakdown’ and it's ok to fall apart because that's necessary in order to become whole again. We tried to be perfect (wives, daughters) and that's what got us here in the first place. If we own each feeling, and accept each feeling, then we can process it peacefully in our own time and move forward to a more beautiful place.”   “Sometimes what may appear to be weakness....breaking down, crying, withdrawing....is actually the strongest thing we can do. Admitting we can't do it all is strong!”   “Being strong, I think, to me looks like not being consumed by grief, bitterness, or shame. If I let it out I'm dealing with it and walking THROUGH the pain, not around it. So, if I need a sick day or cry at a stoplight, or whatever, I'm dealing with it and walking through it... focused on not being consumed.”   “Yes. Surrendering to how we REALLLLY feel!! I have to let myself do that every now and again! I have to remind myself it's ok to have ALLLLL of the feels! The bad ones. The negative ones. The pessimistic ones. They are ALL valid. I actually feel a great release when I finally realize that what I am doing is BLOCKING the flow of the negative feelings in order to ‘stay strong’ and ‘be positive.’” “Sometimes it is just so hard to hold it all together, to be strong for our kids, at work and for ourselves. It's ok to