I survived a widowmaker heart attack. Now I’m done living up to everyone else’s expectations.
Bag lady, you gon’ hurt your back
Dragging all them bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you.
All you must hold on to
Is you, is you, is you
—Erykah Badu
Three months after turning 45, a widowmaker heart attack nearly took me out. Now, before you assume I was living on drive-thru fries and regret, let me clarify. I was a runner. Ran five miles on a treadmill before breakfast at 5 a.m. every morning. I was a kale girl. A green-juice girl. A “What do you mean stress can kill people?” girl.
Fun fact: Turns out stress can, in fact, kill you.
After the cardiologist saved my life and my nurse side-eyed me with that “Now Ma’am…” energy, I had what my grandmother calls a “come to Jesus” moment. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, this is what happens when you’ve written a check your body can’t cash, and now you have to pay up. My check was this: I’d let my entire life be hijacked by everybody else’s expectations, emergencies, and unsolicited opinions.
And it damn near ended me.
The Lie We Were Praised For
For most of my adult life (and if I’m honest, most of my childhood and teenage life too), I treated strength like it was my full-time job. I carried stress like women with far more money carry Birkin bags, and I don’t even like carrying purses. I shouldered everyone else’s busted emotional suitcases before tending to my own, because somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that being the real-life Olivia Pope, who “has it handled,” was my alter ego.
So, no Erykah, nobody told me a thing.
But my story isn’t new, and it surely isn’t foreign. Holding up the sky is what we as women do, and God forbid we were ever to stop. The entire world would come crashing down like a cosmic Jenga puzzle. At least that’s what we have somehow convinced ourselves. And you best believe we had some help.
Anyone remember this Enjoli jingle?
I can bring home the bacon,
Fry it up in a pan.
And never ever ever let you forget you’re a man,
Cuz I’m a woman.
Tag line: “The 8-hour perfume for the 24-hour woman.”
By age seven, it was already imprinted on me that as a female member of the human species, my ultimate goal was to do ALL the things. Get the wash together, feed the kids, get to work, come home, cook, and stroke the ego (among other things) of the man I was supposedly married to. Seven-year-old me didn’t know any better. Fifty-two-year-old me has only one response.
WTF.
And you’d think by 2026, we would be free from this trope that paints us as unofficial members of the Avengers. But noooo. There’s a meme floating around now that shows the traditional silhouette of a woman on one side, and the same silhouette beside it, with the bottom part painted red like a cape. The caption says, “It was never a dress.” Okay. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was a skirt or a really cute swing coat. But who the hell told you it was a cape?
But this is the lie I bought into. The lie a lot of us bought into. We could do it all. We HAD to do it all because we were the Elmers holding it all together. At home. At work. In our communities. The responsibility, the successes, and the failures all fell on our shoulders, and we couldn’t let them (or ourselves) down.
The honest truth is this: We’ve been conditioned to carry bags that weren’t meant for us, and to feel guilty when we finally set them down. Yet, we grab them like luggage at the airport that looks like ours but isn’t. We have to let that sh*t go—which is what I did.
And you can too.
The Strength to Stop
First, can we acknowledge that women get rewarded for capacity? Look how much she can handle. Look how calm she stays. Meanwhile, your shoulders are on strike, and your spirit is screaming, “Lady, if you don’t put this down now!” I had to admit I was carrying too much, like some trophy, and do my best Elsa impression.
Second, once the bags were out of my hands, I had to look at what I was carrying. Checking on everybody. Holding space. Being the fixer. Being the one folks trauma-dump on because “you’re so strong.” BS. Believing that rest is something I earned after collapse? That asking for help meant I was weak and slipping? All lies.
Third, putting down bags feels illegal when you’ve been praised for carrying them all so well. So, I became a felon and started leaving the bags right where I found them. Without comment. Silence WAS the explanation, and “no” is a complete sentence (I’m an English teacher by profession, so I would know). Turns out I was still me, and surprise! Agency showed up the moment I stopped over-functioning. Some people were annoyed. The world did not end. Everyone survived.
Fourth, admittedly, some bags I keep carrying because they make sense. If I leave the grocery shopping to my husband, we’ll be living off high-fructose corn syrup, hydrogenated oil, and red dye #5. But anything that demands self-erasure or requires me to perform strength while neglecting my health gets returned to sender.
Don’t be fooled.
I don’t pack light all the time.
Old habits have excellent muscle memory.
But I’m learning that strength isn’t about how much you can carry. It’s about knowing when to stop lifting despite what society and social media tell you.
And whenever I find myself reaching for what isn’t mine, I hear Erykah Badu in the background singing.
Let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go.
And I do.
19 Responses
Not my battle! It’s my new slogan. Im also trying to learn that I don’t have EXPLAIN why it’s not battle and get anyone’s approval that’s it’s ok to step away. That part I’m still working on…. Great article!
What a wonderfully written article. I dropped my bags some time ago.
Life at 90 as I am now is simple but fulfilling.
I learned to say ‘not my problem’.
My health has been good and I am grateful for that. I wish every woman in the world could read your article. It is spot on.
I have to read more like this, uplifting and inspiring.
When I was younger, I learned four magic words: It’s not my problem. I held up one finger for each word. These words weren’t always spoken, but at some point when things got too crazy, I could hold up my hand, one finger at a time, just to remind myself.
Oh what a wonderful read this was! Each paragraph brings you closer to yourself and instead of cliff hangers; there’s answers. Thank you so very much for this beautifully crafted work
Yikes!!
You wrote my story. You put words to my being as my world imploded.
It nearly killed me too…literally.
Enough is enough. I am enough.
So, you peoply people who judge me so severely…put this is your pipe and smoke it…I choose me first.
Come fill my cup with your life, your love and your laughter or my boundaries stand firm. I am worth it. I am brave. I have sh*t to do.
Let’s run wild, run free in 2026 🔥 🐎
Thank you! This hit home!
We must all learn to care for our selves.
You cannot be everything for everyone.
As a Nurse, I recognize all of this. Nurses are some of the strongest women I know. Too often we forget ourselves in caring for everyone else.
I also realized that although I was blessed with strength, I never knew until the last 10 years what it cost me.
Women are amazing, we need to support each other because no one else will.
I am a nurse too. Always and in all ways, we are caregivers not caretakers.
Superpowers aside, self care is a must.
Fill your cup first.
You are enough
You are worthy
You are brave
We don’t know each other but you summarized my life. I made poor decisions in dealing with my stress instead of stepping back and saying ‘no more’. Too much booze to numb the pain of being surrounded by people but doing all the heavy lifting solo of making things work smoothly. No body knew but I knew. Made changes and people were not happy but at 64 years young I am.
This really blessed me!! In this season, I am striving to move forward more lightly than what I have been doing or else I know I would crash out.
I’m slowly learning and embracing what I once heard a women say, “You can care without carrying “.
Thank you Dr. Chantrise for these powerful article!
I like that. “ you can care without carrying “ Because I like caring about all manner of life. But I know that I can only DO so much. So, if it is in front of me and I have the strength and tools to make a life ( all manner of animals, including the human one, plants , planet ) get some comfort and not be alone. I do it. But hosting a bunch of energy and emotional vampires. Nope.
So true !! One can still feel it all, and thereby not close up inside or be in denial, and then kinda let it go…accept that ya can’t fix it all, that it’s not your responsibility to take that on,,,,
Oh soror this blessed so. I am currently trying to escape my bag lady days. “…putting down bags feels illegal when you’ve been praised for carrying them all so well.” This is me to my therapist now, telling her I won’t know what to do when I don’t have to do it all. This caused a much needed reflection. Thank you for sharing.
Beautifully Written, My Sister! It is the God’s honest truth! This really blessed me. Love you, Dr. Chantrise!
Well Daughter you have out done yourself again. A young lady at my church survived the “widow maker.” As I read your article I began to reflect on my “bag lady” days. Retiring was my “drop the bags” moment. Now I do me. My only desires are that God will be pleased and my grands are with bright a present and glorious future. The rest can wait until…😇💃🏽
I found one of the Kelly Ripa ads:
https://www.ispot.tv/ad/7LHb/electrolux-dinner-party-featuring-kelly-ripa
Where the eff is her husband?
Does this enrage you? It ENRAGES me.
And to think it’s only 2012 ago!!!
Do you remember an Electrolux campaign many years ago, starring Kelly Ripa, with the tagline “Be Even More Amazing”? The commercials featured Kelly, hosting a party and doing her laundry and maybe even taking a turkey out of an oven — I don’t remember all the details. What I do remember is that she looked perfect and beautiful, had a smile on her face, and was multitasking domestic chores using shiny Electrolux appliances while, presumably, needing to get up early the next day for the talkshow gig we all know she had — not to mention take care of her kids.
That campaign still keeps me up at night. For an already over-functioning woman like I was, this campaign was the equivalent of giving crack to a cocaine addict.
Your piece immediately brought to mind this ad campaign and how grateful I am that I no longer see ads like this and think that they are anything but toxic.
Thank you, Chantrise!
As a young child I was taught to always be doing. Always help people, always clean and go to school and learn your studies. I took this with me through my life until 9 years ago when I decided to take care of myself first. I had to learn what that was like and it wasn’t easy. It has changed my life and I am a happy woman because of it. Thank you for this article. It is an eye opener.