Forward motion is hard when you are tied to your pasts. It is always there. There are always reminders. There are regrets and resentments and victories and celebration. But, it is always a part of you. The past molded and shaped who I am. It also built walls. Tall, treacherous, sturdy walls. It built a security system that sends out alerts at the slightest thought of trouble. It built a flight reaction. It built in self-preservation. It built independence that is hard to give up. It throws out the life line to helps you crawl back up that wall and to the safety of the other side.
I don’t want to be alone. I have never wanted to be alone. I also didn’t want to live in a broken place. And so I am alone. I am okay alone but enjoy the company of others. I enjoy a warm embrace. I enjoy a shoulder to cry on. I enjoy someone to celebrate with. I enjoy laughter and tears and cooking and parties and adventures. And I enjoy them more when I have someone to share them with. I enjoy a genuine connection. But how do you share them when a part of you is just a little bit broken? How do you fix it? How do you let someone in?
Well, first…they need to know what they are up against. They have to climb the wall. Or maybe build a ladder to get over it. It will be hard work. It will take time. It will take effort. It will take consistency. It will take proving themselves time and time again. Who wants to do that? Not anyone that I have met. They want easy and that, I am not. I am messy and hard and complicated. I don’t want to be but my past… My past left that behind. My past left a wall behind.
My fear of being hurt is much greater then my need to have a companion and so I have a flight reaction. It is easier to run knowing I can rely on myself than risk being vulnerable enough to rely on someone else. It is easier to be alone than to be hurt. It is easier to be disappointed in yourself than to give someone else the opportunity to disappoint you. It is easier to keep a safe distance behind that secure wall then to risk falling off the top. It is also lonely. And exhausting. You have to do everything for yourself.
When you are always worried about keeping your balance, it’s hard to dance. It’s hard to laugh. It’s hard to let go. It’s hard to really live life to the fullest. It’s just hard.
So, when do you take down the wall? The view can be pretty amazing from the top. You can spend hours watching the world from the security of your perch. The sun is a little hotter and the rain hits a little harder but no one can hurt you. No one can disappoint you. No one can call you out. No one can make you see your weaknesses. No one can really get to know you. You never have to worry about feeling like you are not enough. You never have to worry about being rejected or hurt or left behind. You never have to worry about lies or deceit or a broken heart. You never have to worry about saying goodbye. You can live life on your terms. But, you live it alone.
So, what now? I have made progress. I am no longer behind the wall. I found my perch at the top and my balance has gotten pretty good. I can teeter there for a while. The question is, do I jump over or do I run and hide? Neither seems like a risk I am ready to take. One leaves me lonely, one leaves me hurt? Or maybe it doesn’t. How do I know? Is the potential of something really amazing worth the risk? Is the safety behind the wall a place I want to live?
I don’t have those answers. Or at least I am not ready to navigate my way to one side or the other. So, at the top of the wall? Yep. That is me.
I am the girl on the wall.
I really hope that someone is there to catch me when I fall. I hope that someone see my mess and my complications and my fears and says, I got this. I got her. I hope that someone is strong enough to answer the questions and take the tests and build the ladder and wait. I hope they have patience. I am scared of heights. I get vertigo. My world spins and I shut downs. When I am not looking out from my perch and I think about crawling down, I shut down so I don’t spin.
You see, if you attempt to spin while standing on a wall, you will loose control. You will fall. And right now, I know, one thing, for sure. I am on top of the wall and I am spinning. Is he strong enough to catch me when I fall? Should I take the risk?
Time is a funny thing. It leaves so much behind and it has so much ahead and yet it seems to stand still. So very still. And as it does, I spin. I do not know which direction I will go but I do know that I hope I land safely. And if I don’t, I will always remember, in the midst of chaos, sparkle. Don’t let life dull your shine.
Much Love,
The Manicured Mom
