Stronger Than I Seem

Daily writing prompt

What’s a moment that made you realize you were stronger than you thought?

I think this prompt is pretty straightforward. Most people probably wouldn’t think of literal, physical strength when reading this question; it’s usually more about that intangible, internal fortitude. But for the sake of argument, I’m going to look at it both ways. I want to talk briefly about one example of unexpected physical strength, and follow it with an example of deep, internal survival that I didn’t realize I had within me.

Besides, this is my blog, and I can interpret the prompt any way I want.

X2’s foot locker

For the physical side of this answer, I have to go back ten, maybe eleven or twelve years. This was a time when I was still with X2. When she and her husband initially split up, it was a pretty abrupt move, and she still had some of her things at their old house. On a couple of different occasions, we went over to the old house to retrieve those belongings and bring them back to where she was staying.

This was right around the peak of my fitness days, when I was working out five, six, maybe even seven days a week. I remember she had this massive footlocker. She explained to me that it was full of books and papers and would be incredibly heavy. She warned me a couple of times, “That’s probably the heaviest thing we’ll have to carry. Wait until we can each take an end of it so it’s easier.”

Twelve years ago, I was a much younger man than I am now, and as I said, I was in peak shape. About halfway through moving her things, I was pretty well loosened up. I remember walking up to the footlocker while she watched me. As I braced myself to pick it up, she said, “Rob, just wait for me. You’re never going to get that by yourself.”

Now, I can honestly tell you that in that moment, I wasn’t trying to look like some macho guy or perform a Festivus “feat of strength.” But I looked at that box, mentally and physically braced myself for a massive load, and figured I would at least try. Even if it was heavy, it didn’t mean I couldn’t handle it.

I reached down, gripped it, and lifted. To my surprise, it felt incredibly light. All that time in the gym was paying off. Without a ton of effort, I carried it from one side of her basement to the other.

X2 was stunned.

“How did you carry that by yourself?” she asked, incredulously.

“I don’t know. I just did,” I replied. I wasn’t trying to act cool; I just hadn’t internalised her doubt.

I came to realize in the months and years after that incident that she never saw me quite the same way again. Of course, she had complimented my physique when we first started dating, but that was during the honeymoon phase—when people say flattering things to get into each other’s pants. This was different. A lot of women won’t necessarily admit to it, but they value physical strength. It taps into that historical protector trope. She brought that story up for months afterward. It impressed her, because it was a tangible, visible display of capability.

But physical strength is easy to measure. It’s the weight you can see. The heavier lifting happens out of sight.

The divorce

That brings me to a much more relevant, internal strength. If you want an instance where I realized that my character, my heart, and my resolve were stronger than I ever imagined, look no further than my divorce.

Simply stated: in the beginning, I thought my divorce was going to kill me. And for several months after the split, I was genuinely terrified of my own darkness.

Moving out of South Carolina while Kid 1 was still so young—just five years old—and leaving my life with X1 behind was the hardest thing I have ever done, or will ever do, in my life. I hated the situation, and I hated myself. I knew that from that day forward, I would never have the same daily relationship with Kid 1 that my father had with me, simply because we wouldn’t be living under the same roof. Instead, I was going to be 800 miles away.

That summer, I started hanging out with a social club that I got put in touch with through Phred. The urge to drink heavily was already there because I wanted to be numb. I didn’t want to feel a single thing regarding how heartbroken and devastated I was about the distance between me and my son. Hanging out with that crowd only encouraged the habit.

Worse, it became my primary coping mechanism. The more I drank, the more my tolerance grew. I needed more just to feel the same numbness. Eventually, I figured out that if I just drank faster, I could hit that blank space before my mind could catch up.

On a few occasions, I experienced total blackouts. I didn’t fully grasp how dangerous it had become until one particular night when I went out with X2 and a couple of friends to celebrate her birthday. It was the first birthday we were together for, and I made an absolute fool out of myself. It’s an experience I chronicled shortly after it happened in a three-part blog post called Some Kind of Monster.

I humiliated X2, and I embarrassed myself. Looking back, as disappointed as she was, she was legitimately worried about my safety. I woke up the next day profoundly disgusted with who I saw in the mirror. Right then and there, I decided to stop drinking cold turkey. I remained stone-cold sober for nine months.

While I do drink today on social occasions, I always keep it in strict moderation. The scary part is acknowledging that the potential to let things spin out of control still exists within me. It’s a shadow I have to respect.

But I worked through it. I decided to grind it out, face the music, and persevere. I started dealing with my feelings and emotions head-on. I got back into counseling, and of course, writing this blog had a massive hand in that recovery.

Having the strength to walk away from a marriage that was already dead, finding the intestinal fortitude to survive being 800 miles away from Kid 1 while doing everything in my power to be the best father possible, and staring down a brewing addiction—that was the ultimate demonstration that I am stronger than I realize.

Moving a heavy footlocker proves you can handle an external load. Surviving the collapse of your world proves you can carry yourself.

I’m reminded of that timeless quote from A.A. Milne:

“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you know”

Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Whether I’m closing in on 1,000 consecutive days of blogging or reflecting on the decade of work that brought me here, the mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.

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The article “stronger than I seem” first appeared in Rebuilding Rob.

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