As I recently said in a text to someone, “I am an emotional basketball.” Now, what I meant was basketcase, but autocorrect knew better, apparently. What does this mean? I have big emotions, many of them, all at once. They spill over, generally in the form of tears, often sobs, and I lose all ability to talk.

It isn’t always big stuff that brings on said basketball-ism. Cute kittens rolling in toilet paper, my Gramma dying, people getting bad news… Anything can bring it on, and anything can set me off. I have spent the majority of my adult life (and probably the entirety of my childhood) dealing with the fact that I am The Emotional One.

This past year has been one of big emotions. And I have been in charge of a lot of it.

When the first big challenge came my way, I didn’t have time to be in the corner bouncing away crying, curled up in a ball. It was never an option. I just rose above it. Put my head down and did what needed to be done. The second big wave of trouble? Head down, barged my way forward. I needed to be the grown up. Finally, with my Mom’s passing and all the middle of the night calls, decisions, estate stuff – I just did because Mom wasn’t here to be the grown up for me.

So when I asked myself this question, one word came forward. Strength. My strength surprised me. I did not know 342 days ago that I was this strong. While having it tested in this manner perhaps wasn’t ideal, we never know just how we will be at something, until we are tested.