Walk On

Lately, I have heard a lot about my own strength. People comment on how “strong” I am being as I stare down my family troubles and a broken heart. My question to them is do I have another choice?
Am I being strong? Or do people say that as a way to encourage strength? And is it strength, or just life?
I was listening to Pandora today at work and The Weepies started to play. It was a song I had never heard, “Can’t Go Back Now,” and before it was even over, I found the music video on YouTube and sent it to my best friend. It made her cry (hopefully in a good way). The lyrics follow (but I recommend clicking the link and watching the video. It features Deb Talan and Steve Tannen, the husband-wife duo, as puppets).

Yesterday, when you were young,
Everything you needed done was done for you.
Now you do it on your own
But you find you’re all alone,
What can you do?

You and me walk on
Cause you can’t go back now.

You know there will be days when you’re so tired that you can’t take another step,
The night will have no stars and you’ll think you’ve gone as far as you will ever get

But you and me walk on
Cause you can’t go back now
And yeah, yeah, go where you want to go
Be what you want to be,
If you ever turn around, you’ll see me.

I can’t really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself

And you and me walk on
Yeah you and me walk on
Cause you can’t go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can’t go back now

I can’t go back to when my family was intact and I had my boyfriend by my side. All I can do is appreciate I had it while I did.
And now I’m taking steps all by myself. I don’t think that’s being strong. I think that’s living.
My friend’s mom, who I adore, left a comment on my Facebook status yesterday. She wrote, “We were just talking about you last night… and how you love life!”
I am fortunate that my instinct is usually to love life. That’s not to say I don’t complain, or have dark moments. But I never falter from my belief there is a way out of the hole.
My mother used to tell me, “You always have a choice.” I could chose to wallow in self-pity, which I occasionally do, or I can chose to find my way back to happiness. I think me being “strong” is me walking on, with those who love me behind me, in case I need to turn around.
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