Strength Has An Ugly Mug

Strength doesn’t have a pretty face. It is ugly; sweaty and grimacing. It involves blood-shot eyes, spittle, chapped hands and body odor. Have you ever seen a body builder in action-neck tendons staining, muscles shaking? Yuck. How about an emergency crisis worker in the 23rd hour of their day? Pale and fumbling, sunken eye sockets and hands that shake from too much caffeine. They don’t smell so good either. How about childbirth? Nobody wins a beauty pageant during that. Strength is not pretty. It is ugly and raw.

Truth is-our culture seems to be obsessed with prettiness, from hair to nails, from lip gloss to dainty ankles. There is a “don’t let them see you sweat” attitude that pervades everywhere from boardrooms to parenting, and it is not helpful at all. Yes, it is a social media problem-but it is also about not wanting to show vulnerability anywhere. I have fallen into this trap myself and have spent a lot of time trying to put a spin on difficult situations to make them sound pithy and wholesome. Life is more palatable that way.

But what does that accomplish? Maybe a few people are relieved to hear that perhaps somebody has this life thing knocked, but I would venture to say, I think that it makes far more people feel alienated and alone in their struggle, because theirs is the only sweat they see.

Here a the non-Hallmark version of this blog:

Sometimes parenting overwhelms me with anxiety; sometimes I cry and sometimes I can’t sleep and sometimes I eat too much and sometimes I say things to my son Oakley that I watch leave my mouth in a cartoon talk-bubble and stare at it as it travels across the room to him in disbelief that I just let those words leave my mouth. Sometimes I can’t get out of my way and I mope, wishing that the world treated me more like a princess than it already does. Sometimes I am not grateful, and then to make it worse I slather on a heap of shame that I feel that way. And sometimes all I want is a large snort of whiskey.

Ascending a tall mountain and taking a selfie with a huge grin or riding a bike hard and fast, that is the easy part. The lucky part, but not what deserves attention.

What is far more impressive is much less pretty. It is wading through the gunk; the boring and the mundane parts that come with no adrenaline for fuel. It is finding a way to cope with insecurities, anger and sadness and doing what it takes to make it through the day-perhaps without running for the mountains. It is sweeping the floor again and again because somebody needs to do it-even though it will be covered in dog hair again tomorrow.

So, here is to the ugly parts of strength. To the failed adventures, ugly fights and embarrassments and the routine tasks that must be done. Here is to circling back again and again; to fixing things, or trying to, with busted knuckles, pot-bellies, sweaty bangs and heartache.

We all deserve accolades for that!

Here are the sources of the dog hair…can’t really complain about that.