I don’t have a lot to say, but it’s enough.
While driving home for lunch at noon, I heard the news on KDLG. I trusted I didn’t hear it correctly. A denial response? Or maybe I wasn’t ready to process the information.
I got back to work and searched her name and KUNM radio and what I heard was correct. She died. I read the text and felt the tears. The heaviness. The sadness. The anger that always follows.
I didn’t know Hannah very well, but I knew enough. She was bright. Fun. Had an intriguing energy. Loved dancing. And was a good reporter. She was just…a good one.
She fought depression. And now she’s dead.
I fight depression, too. And after talking to a therapist. Or to my husband. Or a few moments after one those scary thoughts flits through my brain, I always say a prayer of thanks. For my kids. I’ve always said my kids are the reason I fight. The reason I seek help. The reason I try so hard and put so much intention into healing. And they are. And my prayers are sincere. And from my heart and being.
So when I heard the news, I thought, had I not had kids that could have been me. Another prayer of thanks. And then I thought, “Maybe if she had kids…”
But, that is not right.
No. That’s not OK. That’s not right at all. That’s not how it should be. Anger. A woman shouldn’t have to have kids to have reason to fight for her life. A woman is plenty. A woman is enough. Anger. A woman is full. And valid. And enough. Hannah was enough. So much anger.
We are enough.
In this messed up world, a woman isn’t enough unless she has a husband. Unless she has kids. Today she has to have all that and work. And today she has to teach kids. Some think she has to cook. To clean. To submit and all that shit. It is such bull shit.
Hannah wasn’t married. She didn’t have kids. But, Hannah was enough. Hannah was enough. Hannah was more than enough.
We, as women, as we are. We are enough to fight for ourselves. For our lives.
I think of Hannah’s light and I get so incredibly mad her light is no longer tangibly with us. That her heart quit beating. That she is gone. That depression took her.
God, I hate depression.
That prayer is sincere, too.
Women, we are enough. It’s so stupid we even have to say this. It’s stupid that it’s difficult for me to say to myself. But it’s the truth we all should carry. I am enough. I am enough. I am enough.
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