People love to call women like me strong.  Ugh.  Annoying.

Here’s the reality though: most of the time, I don’t want to do it all. I just don’t always have a choice.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, the world didn’t stop spinning just for me. It didn’t hit pause so I could cry in peace and figure out how to navigate it all. Life kept coming and it was coming fast and loud and loaded with responsibility. The bills didn’t slow down. My kids still needed to get to school. Dinner still had to be made. (Ain’t that a bitch about a adulthood too – just constantly figuring out what’s for dinner!) And just three weeks after my mastectomy last August, I went back to work.  Not because I was “ready,” but because the mortgage doesn’t care if you’re healing. And that, my friends, is where most people started calling me “superwoman.”

But I wasn’t Superwoman. I wasn’t tough at all. I was terrified and exhausted, and working on autopilot doing what had to get done. And I did it all while managing everyone else’s emotions about my diagnosis, by the way. That seems to be a trend in the cancer community for what it’s worth.  As patients, we tend to console others about our own diagnosis more than the other way around. I was the strong one because no one else could afford to fall apart, but don’t mistake that for empowerment or being strong.

Let’s talk about what “empowerment” actually means.

Because we’ve twisted it into something unrecognizable. Somewhere along the way, it became synonymous with doing everything, all the time, with a smile on your face and no complaints. We hand women that narrative like it’s a trophy. Survive cancer, raise children, manage a household, hold down a job, and don’t forget to stay positive while you’re at it. And when we do manage to survive it all? We’re called superheroes. We’re told we’re amazing.

But here’s what that praise really does – it makes us invisible. It praises the performance and completely ignores the pain. And that’s really invalidating.

While I was learning how to sleep on my back (I’m a side sleeper, so this sucked) and managing incisions and nerve pain, and wound care, I was also watching the parent chat for cross country practice and snack sign up, and remembering which kid needed a ride on which day, and to where. I was keeping track of groceries, while still trying to take my meds on time. All because I was trying to maintain some kind of rhythm for my family, although deep down, my mind and my soul and my body just wanted to be still for a little while.

These two damn dogs managed to keep me somewhat sane though My dog Beau, judgy Catahoula that he is, watched me like I was personally letting him down when I shuffled past him on my way to the bathroom. (If you’ve never been on the receiving end of a Catahoula’s silent judgement, count yourself lucky. It’s seriously a personality trait.)

Pixel, our smaller canine overlord, offered a different kind of help. She’s essentially a heating pad with legs. And the occasional blast of chihuahua farts. She planted herelf beside me every day like her presence alone could will me back to health. She did keep me grounded, if only by acting as a warm, vibrating heating pad that forced me to slow down. Sometimes, that’s all the support you need though.

Here’s the thing though, honestly: surviving isn’t the same as thriving. It took two dogs to remind me to slow down.  Doing everything doesn’t make you empowered – it often just makes you tired and burned out. And being constantly strong is a lonely place to live too. Not even the dogs want to hang out with you.

Empowerment, to me, isn’t about pushing through when you’re at your breaking point. It’s not about being the last one standing either, arms full of everyone else’s burdens and sorrows. True empowerment is rooted in something deeper and steadier. It’s showing up for yourself even if no one else notices. It’s making choices that prioritize your well-being over your workday. It’s asking for help and understanding that who you are right now might not be who you’ll be a year from now.  And that’s okay!  That’s not failure. That’s growth!!

Empowerment is knowing your worth even when you’re not DOING something. It means you trust your voice, even when it shakes. It’s letting the to-do list wait while you rest your aching body, because we deserve to rest. 

Empowerment is really understanding, deep in your heart, that you don’t need to earn your place in the world by being everything to everyone.

I’m proud of what I carried during that time of my life. I held it together (by a thread of sanity) even though I felt like I might fall apart at any given moment. But I’m not interested in being applauded for suffering. I want more than to claim survival. I want space to breathe. And to become, and to grow and evolve as a person. I want to model that kind of wholeness for my girls, so they don’t mistake sacrifice for love and exhaustion for excellence. I could never stand by quietly and watch them martyr themselves for the sake of some weird boss base societal approval.

So…I’m not your badge of honor. I’m not your inspiration.
I’m a woman who made it through because I fucking had to.
And now? I’m building a life that doesn’t demand I bleed just to be seen anymore. 

Pretty sure Beau will still judge me a little anyway though.