Break Like Glass

I'm embarrassed with how easily I can be hurt. I'll be sitting there, minding my own business, when a couple of casual carefree words tossed my way explode like a grenade and send me spiraling into a world of sadness. You read a little about this in my previous post about my clothing, but it doesn't stop there. My insecurities dig much deeper than my attire, friends. I try to be strong. I really do. I don't want things to faze me, so I stiffen my shoulders and prepare myself for the worst when I have to. It's those times that I haven't readied myself that I can't bear. Something knocks down my guard and for a while after that, I'm almost immobilized.

The worst part of it all is how painfully obvious I am. I can't hide it to save my life. I can see it in the other person's eyes that they know exactly what they did to me, and if I love them, that hurts me even worse. I don't want people I love to feel sad, as much as I seem to act to the contrary too often.

And let's not forget about the embarrassment from being that vulnerable. Knowing that someone else can see right through me like that… That doesn't help with the sadness any.

I want this to be one of those posts where I have a clever ending. A solution. A way to fix myself and anyone else who could be feeling this way. It isn't one of those. I can constantly tell myself that the simple answer is to just not be offended, but that never helps in the moment. It never takes away the sting.

Instead, I'm going to embrace that sting. I'm going to feel that pain as much as I need to. A wise philosopher of our day said that sometimes "you bleed just to know you're alive."

(Okay, so it was the Goo Goo Dolls, but musicians are our minstrels, our poets, are they not?)

Maybe the pain isn't so bad. Maybe we need to hurt sometimes. Maybe we deserve better than constant happiness.

That's right, better.

Would our happiness mean anything without bearing the opposite? Would a kind word wash over us like a warm summer breeze if we hadn't felt the frostbite of an offense?

It might. But if I'm human enough to feel the joy of the silliest little things, the least I can do is be human enough to break down sometimes. At least then I'll know I'm still in need of repair.