A Tough Nut to Crack
Like everyone else…I have an image. OK – maybe multiple images. "The many faces of Sunshine Wolf"… lol.
In this case, I am talking about being tough. I wasn’t brought up to be frail, timid or helpless. I have been told that I am "intimidating" even when I am trying not to be. Falling to pieces and having someone else pick up the pieces has never been an option. I do not recall ever being taken care of in a nurturing way since 1983…when my mother died and I had to become the "responsible adult" in our family.
But even that is not the sole defining moment for my bravado. I have always been outspoke, outgoing, and fast acting – and reacting. It just IS.
Most of the time I am quite OK with that. With my students, it is actually quite a plus. It earns me "respect" in their world, where you cannot afford to be "soft" if you want to survive.
But sometimes, that tough nut sneaks up on me and kicks me in the a**.
The first time I VIVIDLY remember this feeling was years and years ago. Hubby #2 and I were camping with another couple. We were on the Suwanee River and had taken canoes. Of course we were blissfully unaware of what we were doing when we started out – so we went downstream WITH the flow of the current first. For those of you who aren’t following along with the "flow" on this….that meant that when we were tired and ready to return to our campsite we had to paddle back UPstream AGAINST the current. Dummies! We did it backwards. (not an unusual occurrence in my life, btw! lol).
So there we were, moaning and groaning and paddling…. when we got to a shallow area with the current running swift enough that we needed to get out and walk the canoe through it.
Hold on – bit of backtracking here – we had already seen numerous water mocasins…my goofball husband had actually accidentally stuck his hand in a nest of babies while trying to retrieve a fishing bobber.
The water was murky and stained with tanic acid from the cypress trees. What that means is….you couldn’t seen more than 1/4" below the surface of the water. The shallow area was full of rocks and stones which were coated in slimy moss which made walking on them with your shoes ON nearly impossible.
Putting all those facts together….I did not want to get out of the canoe and walk through that part of the river. I asked begged Hubby not to make me get out. He got surly and snarled at me. Words were exchanged….and I got out and helped pull the canoe through the shallow spot. Then I headed straight to shore and collapsed on the sandy bank to recover my composure (and stop shuddering).
About that time….here comes my friend….sitting in the back of her canoe like Cleopatra, while her boyfriend happily hauled their canoe through the shallows. There she was – the Queen of all she surveyed. And there I was, quietly un-freaking myself on the beach. It was too much. Queen Cleopatra brought with her the straw that broke this camel’s back.
I unleased on Hubby. I am sure I was not at all pleasant or kind. When the air cleared (and he could get a word in edgewise) the explanation finally came out. It never occurred to him that I was REALLY that bothered by the whole situation. After all…. he didn’t think of me like THAT. I was tough. You know – one of the guys! Sigh.
At that moment, I wanted to be the Queen (or at least a Princess). I wanted to be a GIRL, for pity’s sake – not one of the guys!!!
And yet – that "toughness" that I spoke of…. that’s one of the side effects. Some women just seem to need to be taken care of. I am not one of them. While 200 men rush to open the door for one of those darling Princessa’s…..they will run by me and knock me into a puddle in the rain to get to her. But then – that’s who I am!
But today being one of the guys snuck up and bit me in the a** again. Rather than repeat the whole story….just trust me. The situation was such that I was treated exactly as ‘one of the guys’. When I raised a mild joking protest I was told – "Oh you’re not one of THOSE women, are you?" I shot back "YES". and I got a solid groan in return. And then he reverted back to treating me as "one of the guys".
Isn’t it odd? I was instantly sitting back in that canoe and wanting to cry red hot tears of frustration. And that was MY problem – not theirs!
And so….all these many years later, I am still "tough".
I think there should be a point to this entry. But I’m not sure what it is.
Do I want to bemoan my toughness? Not really. It has served me well over and over again.
Do I want to complain about insensitive men? No. It is not a gender based issue.
Maybe what I want….just maybe…is to say it out loud. I am a woman – complex and real. I can be tough. I can bend. So far, I haven’t broken. But my feelings have. More than once. And today….was one of those days.
Being tough doesn’t mean we surrender ourselves as women. You’re right, you do bend. Maybe when you snap back up, you can hit one of those insensitive men right in the head. 🙂 Oh, and canoe trips are very bad for married couples. This I know from experience as well. Yikes.
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*hugs*
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I can understand this…I have had to be tough and most of the times, I like that. But then there are the other times…
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As I explain it to my boys: You hold the door open, women give you the bigger cut of meat; it’s not a question of one sex being better than the other, it’s a question of taking care of one another. I think I *completely* understand what you mean.
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{{{{{{{Sunshine Wolf}}}}}}} Down deep you are a woman. The little kids know that when they come to your arms for love.
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I do understand this. I know I give out an impression of being confident, yet really, and in all areas of my life, I am sometimes desperate for reassurance. But I don’t look like I need it, so…. it doesn’t often happen.
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I understand too. There is no ‘give’ it’s all equality plus for me. Sometimes I’d like to be taken care of1
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The story needed to be told, and I HEAR you sister. In more ways than one. I’m with you as a fellow “one of the guy” girls. Sometimes “I” wanna be the girlie girl. Ahhh, screw’em all. You know…. our toughness does make us stronger. Let’s celebrate it.
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I’m basically not a helpless female so people think I can do most things. But…..there are really times I’d like to be helped and pampered and treated like the princesses too.
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I hear tell that when you close the door on some things as you may have done that God is there to open a window of greater peace and tranquility. Hang in there and be your self always!
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The hardest thing I have ever done was to let someone else take care of me.
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Definatly time for tangarine toes methinks, Tangie toes and foo foo drinks with silly girly paper umbrellas and a weekend at the beach with the girls yup that’s what’s being called for I’m sure of it. Checking my schedule to see when I can be down there. hehehehe wiggle cotton candy pink toesies at you saying see makes a tough girl feel like a woman ANY day of the week if you ask me… Lael
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I’m utterly with Willy. Tough you may be – but woman you also are. And the people who matter recognise your warmth and softness, as well as your toughness. (They aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.)
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I’m glad you wrote this entry. I can understand how you feel.
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I know exactly what you mean. I can “let go” as long as I know when I do, that someone is going to take at least as good care of me as I do of myself–look out for me, etc. It’s verrry difficult. (I think the tampon hunting may finally be over–haha!) Cheers!
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“hunting” s/b “haunting” in previous note (Freudian?)
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ryn: thanks I hope it all works out I really do. Lael
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((hugs)) and sometimes I wish i could be a little tougher. 🙂
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you gotta learn to argue…….. “normally, i am tough, but right now i am not doing this”…… like that. lol
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funny that with men … but I remember you as allowing your dad to take care of you hello lovely lady have not seen you in a long time
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I hear you. I’m another “tough” one, grew up to be self-reliant. (In some situations it led me to secretly think, “I wanna be a bimbo when I grow up.” Though not really.) When I got together with M I had to learn to accept my own vulnerability, which scared me half to death.
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RYN: thanks for your note. talking helps.
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Just be your beautiful self. I’ve had to toughen up over the years, I am not that way naturally but I have high regard for those who are..
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my dad called my mom a staunch russian broad. She’s not ‘exactly’ russian tho the two countries here parents are from are borderlands. She’s also like you, tough, but still has an emotional core that exists, and likes to be pampered! I know what you mean, and the big joke with Winifred the Frog princess comes from that… me, i’m no princess either, but some days i want to be one. 🙂 HUGS!
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Many of the women I admire are girly, and tough. I’m not fully sure how they pull it off, but it’s impressive when they do! I think awareness of the messages you are sending is a big part of it. I’m sorry you’re feelings were hurt. I really am. With much affection,
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tough or no, I think everyone always likes one of these. *HUG*
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Hmm, I swam in a similar river once, near Gainsville… Maybe you could get a T-shirt printed, “hug me, I’m a toughie” *grin*
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I know that toughness, too. Wear it often; well, most of the time actually. I don’t know that I like it but it fits me now, kind of like a pair of old jeans. LOL. Don’t tell anyone but I wear lacy drawers under the jeans. I guess WE know who is really a girlie girl, don’t we?
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This entry and notes are fascinating to me. I can see the downside you are talking about in being an independent woman, but respect and admire all the positives that come with that. I would hold the door open for you any day. any night. {smile}
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REYN YES! as soon as the thunderstorms have passed and i remember to blink!
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I am very glad you wrote this. It is the truth. You are not JUST strong, you are many things. My daughters are finding out this tendency of being treated as having no needs, having to stick up for them is no fun. We must teach wholeness. I would’ve been a bit shocked to hear you ask not to have to go in the water, looked in your eyes and asked you, really? You mean it? ox
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Ayii… we DO have some things in common. I have this problem, too. It’s like people don’t view me as a feminine being in relation to the helpless ones… at least my friends are knowledgeable enough to not call me “one of THOSE women”, because to me that isn’t acceptable. Respect, respect, respect. Anyway, blathering. *HUG*
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