Ice in Her Veins

My BFF Mary Lou, who I've known since 1978, has always marveled at my ability to maintain composure during the saddest, sappiest movies. Remember Ali McGraw in Love Story, or Julia Roberts in Dying Young? Everyone else around me is pulling out the kleenex and I'm always the one sitting there stoically dry-eyed. Mary Lou's always joked that I must have "ice in my veins."

Well, all that has changed recently. Now I'm the one with mounds of used kleenex everywhere, and crying has become a part of my daily routine. Not a day goes by that I'm not overcome with emotion -- it can hit randomly when Andy or Will call to check in on me, when I hear amazing stories of courage from breast cancer survivors, when a total stranger hugs me in a clinical setting, when I feel the wet nuzzle of my dogs on my face, when I listen to a powerful piece of music . . . heck, I even started crying in front of the mailman the other day for no apparent reason!

This has been a great release for me. It's part of the necessary but painful process of removing my "strong" mask that I've presented to the world for so, so long. I'm accepting the fact that crying in no way diminishes my strength. I'm confident that my body is ready to fight this battle and that a few tears along the way are just a part of the self-discovery I'm experiencing. My life is enriched by the tears, just as a flower blooms after being nurtured and watered by nature.

I'm reminded of a quote by Anne Morrow Lindberg, author of one of my alltime favorite books, Gift From the Sea: "Woman must come of age by herself. She must find her true center alone." This is a book that I try to reread at least once a year, full of simple wisdom and using the sea as a methaphor for women's lives.