Strength. I thought a lot about strength this past year. Actually, the lack of thereof. Which makes it all about weaknesses then, really. I observe people around me, and I see weak ones that have no valid reason not to be strong. I see strong ones, always interestingly interlaced with such irritating dose of cockiness, where there’s absolute no reason for it, either. I always thought, strength is determined with the course of actions our life takes us. Reason. Reality. Circumstance.

But I recently came to a conclusion, a strength is a damn choice. Or it could be, if you WANTED to be strong.

Like all the other stuff that made us who we are, everything hails from the upbringing. The famous – La Familia. We’re not even aware how the smallest details we experienced, heard, lived through as children stay with us, form us. So if you were unlucky (or lucky in today’s day & age) to be raised by those crude types of folk who always told you you’re the second coming of God, the prettiest, smartest, the bestest in the whole wide world regardless of being mediocre in every area possible: you’ll be a strong moherfucker. You’ll be unrealistic of your looks, talents, possibilities, you’ll be unfazed with reality, you’ll be strong. The weak ones? Usually the moral, the caring, the unassuming, the ones that have been raised to question, to doubt, to not get themselves too seriously or too important regardless of how amazing, pretty or talented they might be.

It blows my fucking mind.

I was raised by exceptionally tough mother. She is very artistic, just like me. Or me, just like her. She can create miracles with her hands and she makes clothes to shame the best tailors around. When I was a child, I already explored my artistic side, I could draw as someone twice my age, and naturally I wanted to make clothes. I knitted my first sweater when I was about 13 years old, but before I could actually make something, I had a lots of ruined attempts. Call it an early professional deformation, if you will. My mom was always traveling the world, buying this beautiful, rare fabrics. What I did was take some peaces of her fabrics while she was working, trying to sew some Barbie clothes. Didn’t steal anything, I was allowed to take a small piece of fabric. What I wasn’t allowed, but also never explained to, to cut the fabric from the middle and make it unusable for anything else. She liked to be mad at things prior to explaining it (insert her voice here, saying, “but I did, didn’t I?!”. You didn’t.)

When she would come home after work at 3:15 and saw what I did, she screamed so hard I still hear her voice in my head, never explained or understood I’m a child and I need to be talked to, explained how to do it, cut it from the edge and etcetera, she just screamed. But the screams were not the worst part, its the words that followed – “You ruined everything. You always ruin stuff. You only know how to ruin everything”.

Those words got instilled in my 11-12 year old mind so deeply, that even today after creating some beautiful pieces of art or clothing; I always think of myself as ruiner. Some days, back then, when I didn’t even touch her materials, I would still shake at 3:15, just before she would come home, knowing I did not touch anything that day, I felt guilty anyways, the “quilt” got into my bones.

Even today, I still feel guilty for everything I did or did not do. I have a guilty vibe around me, so whenever something happens in my adult life, anytime there is an issue with my friendships, relationships, I will probably be the one to blame, because I still carry it in me. I “look” guilty. And people can smell it from mile away. I was blamed for nothing so many times in my life, I stopped fucking counting.

It’s something I work on every day of my life. But also, its my choice. I can dwell in it, let myself go, be weak about it, feel like everyone is out there to get me, or I can chose not to give a fuck, and show everyone the invisible finger.

Strength. Is a choice. Whatever happens to you, you can choose to dwell in it and be weak; weakness is easy. It’s soooo easy to let go and just let the current take you to wallow in your own despair.

But I challenge you to resist! Almost everyone around you wants you to fail anyways. They want you to be weak, so why don’t you just chose to be strong instead? When you feel your heart racing and that wave of uncertainty fill your lungs, sit down, straighten your back, breathe and stop it. Stop the wave, instead, fill your lungs with peace, content, be still for few minutes. And than realize you don’t have a do over, you have one life. So why not be a strong motherfucker instead?

Do it.

Miranda Vidak
Miranda Vidak

Founder & Designer of Moodytwin Inc. Disrupting the conversation about culture, identity, relationships & social issues.

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