One day at a time
Some days, I feel much older than my 24 years. A few days ago I told someone that I was pretty sure I was shock proof. That in the last 5 years I've been truly shocked a handful of times, and that even so, maybe half of those were media/entertainment shock value. It's not that I think the things I have been through are so much more dramatic than things other people have been through, although they might be. It might just be a combination of the fact that some of these things really are shocking, and difficult, and painful-beyond what one might consider normal-and the fact that I am, in spite of myself, very sensitive. Not in a bad way... just in my way. I am, in my own way, very strong and very tough, but it strikes a very interesting balance with very sensitive, and sometimes fragile. It's what keeps me sane, keeps me alive, keeps me me, in the face of my ever-changing world. I've been grown up into a stronger person, and a tougher person, because of a lot of my circumstances, because of the road I've gone down, and the detours I've discovered.
So, because of the things I've seen, heard, and lived through over the last 7 years of my life, I never expect to be hurt anymore. Every time I am hurt, truly and deeply, or I see hurt that is really really terrible, I think to myself, "this has got to be it, it cannot get worse than this right now, I cannot be hurt worse, be told worse, see worse pain than this". And then I do. It never fails that I find myself not strong enough. I've had people tell me over the last couple weeks that I am strong and I can handle things-even when my expectations of myself are not that high. It surprises me to hear it, and even more so, if I find myself believing it. I expect to break, because I think more of myself as broken than anything else sometimes.
How did I become strong? The thing is, I'm not always. I am, when I need to be, and not when I don't need to be. When I am allowed, or I feel like I can let myself be breakable, then I will take advantage of the chance I have to cry and to be vulnerable and fragile... but I am strong enough that I don't stay in that place.
Each time these things happen in my life that shift my reality, I expect to become jaded more and more. Because, the first the time that my reality truly shifted... through the first divorce... everything I believed in changed. Everything that I knew, everything that I was familiar with was suddenly gone, like walking in a parking lot and suddenly stepping onto black ice... you don't see it coming and suddenly you have no stability, and the only thing to grab is that crappy Ford Fiesta. When that happened, I gave up on everything I believed to be true. I doubted in love, I committed myself not to fall in love, because all that meant was trusting someone who would most likely destroy me.
Ah trust. There's the repeating theme. All of the damage and ruin and all of the trust that is completely broken. I've been the one who's done it, and the one it's been done too. I have seen things that absolutely baffle me. I don't understand anymore. The things that people could do, in their own lives, in selfishness, without even thinking, just ... acting.
Sometimes, I am surprised at my own ability to continue to care, and care so completely, in spite of everything I know and everything I've seen. If I knew any better, or was anybody but me, I would have walls, and barriers, and Dobermans at the gates protecting me. But I don't. That's where I am, in all these ways, so different I think. That despite the things I've seen heard and lived through... I can still care, through and through. Without reservation. Sometimes I hate myself for it. Sometimes I sit there, tears in my eyes, and I wish that I was different. That I could keep my heart safer. But if I could, I wouldn't be me.
I hate seeing the people I love hurting. I hate when there is nothing I can say. Sometimes I forget that there doesn't need to be something to say, every single time... that sometimes, listening is the only thing that needs to be done. I hate being the one who is hurting, when there is nobody there to hold me when I cry. Because some people need to talk, and don't need something said in return, and some people need to be held, and have someone stroke their hair and rub their back and... I hate being the one who is hurting, when I don't think that there is anyone who will catch me when I fall.
That is the difficult balance. Being strong for someone else is okay. And I can do it, but there is a point, after you listen, and you listen, and you try so hard to be strong for them and be there, and take the weight of someone else's burden, at least for a little while, that when they can finally rest, you are sitting there, trying to balance the weight, and wondering what to do with it.
These last few weeks, almost the last month, have just been exhausting for me. I'm torn between feeling all grown up and feeling like a lost little girl. It's hard being a grown up, and being your parent's child, at the same time. It's hard being anything at all, when you are caught off guard.
I've learned countless lessons from my dad, he's made little comments to me that I really had to focus on even though he had no idea that I was hurting too, and trying not to. I am trying not to turn into someone I don't want to be, and most of the time, I'm not, but every once in a while, I can't not be. But just when I'm starting to let this girl I hate get the best of me, he says something to me that stops me in my tracks. Because he doesn't know that I need to hear it, so he doesn't even know he's helping me grow up. I'm mostly okay, even when I don't want to be... because right now, I have absolutely no reason not to be okay.
So, because of the things I've seen, heard, and lived through over the last 7 years of my life, I never expect to be hurt anymore. Every time I am hurt, truly and deeply, or I see hurt that is really really terrible, I think to myself, "this has got to be it, it cannot get worse than this right now, I cannot be hurt worse, be told worse, see worse pain than this". And then I do. It never fails that I find myself not strong enough. I've had people tell me over the last couple weeks that I am strong and I can handle things-even when my expectations of myself are not that high. It surprises me to hear it, and even more so, if I find myself believing it. I expect to break, because I think more of myself as broken than anything else sometimes.
How did I become strong? The thing is, I'm not always. I am, when I need to be, and not when I don't need to be. When I am allowed, or I feel like I can let myself be breakable, then I will take advantage of the chance I have to cry and to be vulnerable and fragile... but I am strong enough that I don't stay in that place.
Each time these things happen in my life that shift my reality, I expect to become jaded more and more. Because, the first the time that my reality truly shifted... through the first divorce... everything I believed in changed. Everything that I knew, everything that I was familiar with was suddenly gone, like walking in a parking lot and suddenly stepping onto black ice... you don't see it coming and suddenly you have no stability, and the only thing to grab is that crappy Ford Fiesta. When that happened, I gave up on everything I believed to be true. I doubted in love, I committed myself not to fall in love, because all that meant was trusting someone who would most likely destroy me.
Ah trust. There's the repeating theme. All of the damage and ruin and all of the trust that is completely broken. I've been the one who's done it, and the one it's been done too. I have seen things that absolutely baffle me. I don't understand anymore. The things that people could do, in their own lives, in selfishness, without even thinking, just ... acting.
Sometimes, I am surprised at my own ability to continue to care, and care so completely, in spite of everything I know and everything I've seen. If I knew any better, or was anybody but me, I would have walls, and barriers, and Dobermans at the gates protecting me. But I don't. That's where I am, in all these ways, so different I think. That despite the things I've seen heard and lived through... I can still care, through and through. Without reservation. Sometimes I hate myself for it. Sometimes I sit there, tears in my eyes, and I wish that I was different. That I could keep my heart safer. But if I could, I wouldn't be me.
I hate seeing the people I love hurting. I hate when there is nothing I can say. Sometimes I forget that there doesn't need to be something to say, every single time... that sometimes, listening is the only thing that needs to be done. I hate being the one who is hurting, when there is nobody there to hold me when I cry. Because some people need to talk, and don't need something said in return, and some people need to be held, and have someone stroke their hair and rub their back and... I hate being the one who is hurting, when I don't think that there is anyone who will catch me when I fall.
That is the difficult balance. Being strong for someone else is okay. And I can do it, but there is a point, after you listen, and you listen, and you try so hard to be strong for them and be there, and take the weight of someone else's burden, at least for a little while, that when they can finally rest, you are sitting there, trying to balance the weight, and wondering what to do with it.
These last few weeks, almost the last month, have just been exhausting for me. I'm torn between feeling all grown up and feeling like a lost little girl. It's hard being a grown up, and being your parent's child, at the same time. It's hard being anything at all, when you are caught off guard.
I've learned countless lessons from my dad, he's made little comments to me that I really had to focus on even though he had no idea that I was hurting too, and trying not to. I am trying not to turn into someone I don't want to be, and most of the time, I'm not, but every once in a while, I can't not be. But just when I'm starting to let this girl I hate get the best of me, he says something to me that stops me in my tracks. Because he doesn't know that I need to hear it, so he doesn't even know he's helping me grow up. I'm mostly okay, even when I don't want to be... because right now, I have absolutely no reason not to be okay.