"It's such a tangled web we weave from the soul to the lips" (ain't that the truth??)

Today I received a well-traveled letter from Afghanistan. Someone very important to me is currently there fighting for a country that him and I share. When we were teenagers romping around our hometown like we owned the world, neither of us thought we would be where we are today; so far from home, so far from everything we once knew. This soldier informed me that he keeps a regular watch on my blog and that my last few posts were troubling to him due to my defeated tone. "You're one of the most resilient people I know and I've always admired that about you", he wrote in his letter. This statement has seemed to be the theme of my life as of late; my sister, with whom I rarely have contact, has just sent me an email asking me why I can't see the side of myself that is strong, independent and hates to feel out of control. She was making a statement that her and I are more alike than I realize, thus the reason we tend to have conflict. But I do see this about myself and in a difficult email I sent back in November, I wrote to someone very dear to me and confessed how exhausting it is to have to be strong all the time. I've always felt that others rely on me to be the strong one, to hold the situation together and to take control of my feelings and after 31 years of doing just that, I am simply tired. I've spent so many years being tough that people tend to no longer view me as a girl that just simply wants to be a girl sometimes. The other night, my flatmate was surprised to learn that I enjoy the occasional chick flick. I like those sappy love movies that make you wish the man of your dreams would profess his undying love for you in an embarrassing public display. We all know things like that never happen in real life, but it's nice to be a girl sometimes and wish they could. But I've noticed that as I get older (am I officially old enough to use the 'when I was your age' comments?) I've become increasingly emotional; rarely are my cheeks wet with tears and I've always been stellar at not letting myself cry, but as I've aged I've come to accept that a tear or two is not the end of the world and that showing an appropriate amount of emotion does not make me weak. These past months in Australia have forced me to take a close look at myself and I've worked through a lot of grief. I've come out the other side stronger yet more aware of my emotional self and I've realized what, and who, is important in the grand scheme of this crazy trip we call life. I'm now in the process of attempting to fix my broken family (with their help, as well, of course) and I'm taking the advice that my ex-husband gave me and am living my life to the fullest while I have no attachments. Next month I will be leaving Australia and traveling to Amsterdam to join the crew of The Black Fish, an amazing up-and-coming marine conservation organization. In September, I will stand beside Ric O'Barry at the Cove and once again hold vigil for the dolphins of Taiji. Life is hard sometimes: people we love hurt us. We hurt people we love. And while it may seem easier to act tough and keep moving, life demands emotion and I've come to realize that's not necissarily a bad thing.