Fear and Strength Can Exist Together

I thought I was creating an archetype piece. Instead, I lived inside it.

Yesterday, I sat in a Zoom room full of women and read a poem through tears.

Even through computer screens, the emotion in the room was palpable. What unfolded afterward was one of the most powerful experiences I’ve had in a very long time.

No one tried to fix me.

No one rushed past the hard parts.

No one looked away from the emotion.

They simply listened.

And somehow, in a week filled with fear, uncertainty, exhaustion, and healing, that felt incredibly powerful.

The past couple of weeks have changed me in ways I’m still trying to understand.

What began as a routine hip replacement turned into something far more serious. An infection. Emergency surgery. Hospitalization. IV antibiotics. Fear. The realization that things can change very quickly.

I am home now and slowly finding a rhythm again. I’ve been doing my own IV antibiotics since Tuesday, and thankfully that part is going smoothly. I’ve finally found a pain management schedule that is helping, and for the first time in a while, I feel like I can exhale just a little.

But healing is not linear.

Tomorrow I see my surgeon again because my incision has started swelling and opening in places again. There is fluid, inflammation, and uncertainty. And if I’m honest… that scares me.

One of the biggest lessons through all of this has been learning to listen to myself and speak up when something doesn’t feel right. I knew deep down something was wrong long before the severity of the infection was fully understood.

Experiences like that stay with you.

But what I wasn’t prepared for was the emotional aftermath.

The fear.

The adrenaline crashes.

The replaying of moments in my mind.

The “what ifs.”

The realization that I came far closer to losing my life than I ever wanted to imagine.

Even now, while trying to focus on healing physically, my mind is still struggling to catch up emotionally.

I’ve realized that healing isn’t just about antibiotics, incisions, or pain control. It’s also about the nervous system. The heart. The emotional weight we carry after trauma.

And for me, that means recognizing I need support emotionally too. I’m currently working on finding a therapist because I understand now that healing truly has to happen mind, body, and soul.

In Jane Dunnewold’s group, we’ve been exploring creativity, identity, and the deeper stories we carry beneath the surface.

This week, what came out of me wasn’t fabric or thread.

It was this.

The Gate Appeared Again by Deb Deaton

I came to create an archetype piece.

Instead, the archetypes arrived.

Not in fabric.

Not in thread.

Not in carefully chosen symbols.

But in hospital lights.

In shaking hands.

In whispered fears at 3 a.m.

In a body that knew something was terribly wrong.

At first, it whispered.

Then it begged.

Then it screamed.

And still,

I questioned myself.

The Saboteur sat quietly beside me, asking:

“Maybe you’re overreacting.”

“Maybe it’s anxiety.”

“Maybe you should trust them instead of yourself.”

Three times

The doctor held the labs in his hands and told me I was fine.

Three times my body answered back:

No.

And somewhere in that collision between authority and intuition, the gate appeared again.

The Warrior stood beside my bed when I finally found my voice.

The Rebel rose when dismissal tried to silence truth.

The Seeker listened to the wisdom beneath the fear.

And the Healer appeared not as certainty—but as surrender.

Not healed.

Not finished.

Not transformed into some shining version of myself overnight.

Just willing

to stop abandoning myself.

I never created the art piece I thought I was supposed to do.

Because this week, I lived inside it.

The unfinishedness became the work.

The threshold became the lesson.

And this time,

I walked through the gate

with an IV in my arm,

fear in my chest,

and my voice intact.

I don’t know exactly what comes next.

I know there is still a long road ahead.

I know there will be more appointments, more healing, more uncertainty, and probably more fear.

But I also know this:

Fear and strength can exist together.

Strength is not pretending you’re okay.

Strength is not pushing emotions aside.

Sometimes strength is simply telling the truth about where you are… and continuing anyway.

And right now, that is enough.

Deb Deaton

DJ’s Fiber Arts

“No Rules, Just Art”