Not that sometimes it isn’t necessary and really helpful.
But I just have this thing with people telling me to get a thicker skin or lighten up.
Look folks, I’m a tough cookie.
I can be a cold ass bitch.
I spent the greater part of my childhood being told I was selfish.
Most days I believe I really could be.
I battle that every day.
I never cried.
I didn’t miss people.
I sure as hell never told anyone I cared about them.
I was not vulnerable.
It took a lot of work to get where I am today.
It’s not always fun, but it’s truthful.
As a child/teenager/young adult I’m sure I wasn’t really selfish.
I know I wanted to cry, and probably did when no one was looking. I can’t really remember (which is odd.)
I refused to think of people when they weren’t there. Distraction is powerful.
But there were no exceptions to the sharing rule. I kept everything on the inside.
I was invulnerable because no one knew me.
People who know me now might laugh at this,
but it’s not a lie.
You can ask my mama. I’ll give you her number.
I was so trapped. Soul-less to the world’s eyes.
Now I have scars. It may sound ugly.
It kind of is. But I love every wound I’ve ever allowed myself to receive,
and slowly even the ones I couldn’t have prevented.
That they healed gives me hope.
That I have reminders, scars . . .
well sometimes I hate them, but mostly I love them.
I’ve shoved alot of life in my years.
Give me some credit folks.
(Don’t worry, I know sometimes I need to remind myself, too.)
I’m not trying to be a whiner.
I’m trying to live.
I was tired of having all my relationships inside my head.
But living all out
never gets easier.
No wonder so many people avoid it.