To handle yourself, use your head; to handle others, use your heart. 

– Eleanor Roosevelt

When Everything Falls Apart

I recently read a saying that made me laugh. It went something like this: Dear Whatever-Doesn’t-Kill-You-Makes-You-Stronger, Thank you. I’m strong enough now. 

Cute! But it started my brain thinking about what people do when everything falls apart.

Options are many. There’s always the “go to bed,” option. Just drop out of the world for a bit and let everything stop. Maybe there are tears and feelings of failure or loneliness to process or not. Of course the standard grab a cup of really good coffee, tea, or liquor offers a degree of solace when relationships fail or everything you’d planned, dreamed of, and worked toward falls apart.

 In my books, Dancing with Detective Danger and Always and Forever Love, about the Private Investigator sisters, Sterling and Lacey Agar, the sisters suffered much and early. Their world, consisting of their family, crumbled away in degrees. They each found ways of soldiering on, but they also each built coping mechanisms that kept them going into adulthood. Coping mechanisms are survival tactics, but they also can become outdated and destructive.

For Sterling, the younger sister, the loss of her father and mother and family as she’d known it prompted her to build walls that would keep her safe from getting close to anyone again. When her sister’s husband was killed, the walls got stronger and she broke up with her lover and detective, Ben. Here’s an excerpt in which Ben pushes her to try love again.

     Ben dropped his hands to his sides and stepped off the elevator. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his thumb against his chin. The rasping of his thick beard stubble sounded crisply inside Sterling’s head, drawing her in like a bee to honey. 
    “We found Jerry’s fingerprints on a glass in the bathroom,” he said, eyeing her as she stepped out into the night. 
     Sterling cleared her throat. “So they were enjoying a little early morning tryst. That would explain why there was no sign of forced entry and why the dog didn’t attack the killer. The dog must have known the killer. It seems pretty open and shut, huh?” 
     “Maybe,” hedged Ben. “Maybe a little too neat?” 
     “Yeah. But then, what’s wrong with neat? Well, here’s my car,” she said, stepping several feet away from Ben. Sterling pointed her remote key toward her car and put her hand on the door handle. Her hands still trembled, despite her efforts to calm herself. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Ben standing on the other side of the lot. 
     “You know, it seems like you’re always walking away from me,” he said, his voice low. 
     Instantly, Sterling pivoted. “Don’t do that.” She faced him with as much composure as she could muster. 
     “Don’t do what?” A few succinct broad strides and he closed the distance between them. 
     “Don’t keep referring to the past.” 
     “I can’t help it, Sterling. Maybe that’s because what we shared isn’t really in the past.” 
     Standing close, he looked down at her with such sorrow, she wished she could reach out and hold him, tell him everything would be the way he wanted it. With strong emotions seething just under her skin, it would be so easy to tell him things could be the way they used to be. 
     Instead, she backed away. 

Like her sister, Lacey’s worldview was shaped by the loss of her parents. But when her husband died, she wore the grief of his death like a heavy mantle. That is, until her dead husband, Nicholas, returned to her as an embodied spirit. With him back in her life, and visible only to her, Lacey centers her life around him, repressing any desires for more. She fears the return of the terrible grief if he leaves. But what she doesn’t know is that Nicholas has come back to help her move back into the world and develop a new relationship, without him nearby.

     Brought out of her reflection by the sound of a car horn nearby, she realized Nicholas’s remark was part of a developing pattern he’d been presenting lately, and she wanted to nip it. “Jackson Carter is a snake who comes from a long line of snakes. I want nothing to do with him.” Initially she’d felt self-conscious about talking to Nick in public, but he’d suggested that most people didn’t notice because they were busy with their own thoughts, and she’d found out he was right. She glanced at the passenger side and smiled. “How long have you been watching, Nick, my love?” 
     “Long enough. I wanted to see Tyler off. But stop changing the subject.” He set his eyes, the color of crystal blue quartz, on Lacey. “Tell me about Jackson.” 
     Her heart clenched. “I don’t want to talk about him. The only two men in my life are Tyler and you.” She wanted the traffic driving by to distract him but she suspected his attention was elsewhere. 
     “You forget, I’m dead. I’m just a ghost. I can’t even keep you warm on a cool summer evening.” The wind flowing in through the open window lifted strands of Nick’s ash- blond, wavy hair. His face turned to savor the breeze, and he looked every bit alive enough to Lacey. 
     “You make me happy. It’s as simple as that.” She reached for Nick’s hand. He took hers in his, brought her fingers to his lips, and brushed them with a kiss. She savored the feel of his lips, never taking his very solid presence for granted. 
     “You deserve more, Lacey. You’re young, you’re alive. I’m not. Not in the same sense you are.” 
     His pressure on her to consider different options than the perfectly lovely and satisfying one she had with him made her stop breathing. “Stop.” She let out her breath as she turned into the parking garage across the street from the Aegar Investigations office. “You are alive. Just not in a way anyone would get. I do. And I get you. And if that means I get you as a ghost, as you put it, I’m grateful.”

The defenses the sisters have in place are not far from what people do in real life when tough times hit and call into question how we’re going to go on. When a book project is rejected, many of us go through the routine of reassessing our ability as a writer and consider quitting. I’ve done it many times when a reviewer has rated my book anything less than a 5-star. Reassessing can be helpful. So can going to bed and grabbing a hot coffee, talking with a good friend, or really processing the sorrow.

Then what? It’s up to you. Because as Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Life is what you make it. Always has been, always will be.”

What do you do when facing a hard situation? Do you have any sayings that give you strength?

A Woman is Like a Tea Bag...

Eleanor Roosevelt was on to something.

Recent developments in my life have had me thinking about strong women, and what makes them tick.  Women go through life, doing what needs to be done.  We spend our days taking care of our families and our jobs, often putting ourselves last on our own priority lists.  But back us against a wall, and you may discover we have strengths you weren't expecting.  Don't underestimate us, or the fictional heroines we love to read because they, too, are rooted in strong women.

My family and friends think I am a strong woman.  But compared to some women I know, I’m a wimp.

One woman I know is a wife, a mother of three children under 6, and a full-time researcher. Her youngest son was born prematurely, and before the age of 1, starting having seizures and coding. For months, she was afraid to leave his side in case he had another episode, and yet she did, in order to keep her other children’s lives as normal as possible.  One night, her oldest son told her he must not be praying right because he prayed that the baby would never have to go to the hospital again and yet he did.  He asked her to pray with him to be sure that he was talking to God the right way.  Although she told me that just about broke her heart, she managed to do as he asked without falling apart.  She is the glue that holds her family together, and I admire her for fighting to keep life as normal as possible for her kids during such a difficult time.   And despite all she has on her plate, she finds time to ask about me and my family.

Another woman was seriously injured and lost her fiancé in a car accident before she was 20.  Over time, she was able to rebuild her life.  She married and now has two adult children.  Her youngest graduated high school and joined the Marines.  Although she is terrified something will happen to him, she acts strong for him because that’s what he needs.  She focuses on his accomplishments and lets him know how proud she is of him.  But one year later, she finds herself struggling to cope.  After a strange phone call from her, I found her sitting on the patio in the dark wrapped in an old chenille robe.  I held her in my arms, letting her cry until she couldn’t cry any more.  She thanked me but it wasn’t necessary – she would do the same for me. 

An older woman relies on her strong religious faith to carry her though daily life.  She is always giving to others, sending notes of encouragement or offering to help in some other way.  Her positive outlook slipped when she went through a difficult time with health issues that included three surgeries in a little over a year.  She wasn’t recovering as quickly as she expected and without realizing it, she started relying on medications.  It wasn’t until she couldn’t find the bathroom in her own home that she finally admitted something was wrong.  Following an appointment with the doctor to review her meds, she ended up in the hospital, where they took her off all the meds, cold turkey.  At the time, she was furious with everyone around her.  She believed she needed the meds.  But after a week of no meds, her head started to clear and she reverted to the person she has always been. 

A once vibrant and happy young woman recently broke off a relationship that was showing signs of mental and verbal abuse.  Although it was a painful recognition, she admitted she had been unhappy for some time, allowing her significant other to dictate her life.  That’s not the way she wants to live her life.  

These women are all important people in my life.  The first woman is a friend who calls on me when she needs to vent.  I encourage her when I can, but sometimes she just needs someone to listen and not judge.  The second woman is the friend who would help me bury a body and then go to jail with me, and make the whole experience fun.  We are there for each other.  The third woman is my mother.  She was furious with me at first, but now is thankful I cared enough to interfere when I knew something was wrong.  The fourth woman is my daughter.  I taught her, maybe too well, to be her own person.  But most importantly, I hope I instilled confidence that she can make good decisions for herself. 

These women are each strong in their own ways.  I’m not sure I could handle any of their situations with as much grace as they have.  My strength lies in being supportive and strong for others; I’m a nurturer and I know it.  Knowing these women has given me insights into writing strong, capable heroines.

What characteristics are representative of strong women you know?  Who is your favorite strong fictional heroine and why?