Sometimes I wish I could not be as strong as I am. Sometimes I wish I could just break completely open and let out everything I’ve held so close to my heart. When someone tells me I’m a strong person, I thank them. Internally, I’m happy my façade is working.
Being strong to me is when you’re able to be vulnerable with another human being. It’s easy to look at someone and assume that because they’re smiling, joking around and look genuinely happy that everything is going great for them. Don’t get me wrong, most of the time things are going pretty great for me. I have amazing friends and family, a job and I’m overall pretty comfortable. But comfortable has and always will scare me.
I used to own only enough stuff that I could fit into the back of my Mazda 3. The permanence of my situation had never bothered me because everything in my life up until a few years ago was temporary. I could easy pick everything up and leave without a second thought and I did that a couple of times. My friends used to call me a gypsy because I was a gypsy.
This need for temporary led me to a lot of relationships that were definitely not going to last. Three weeks is my max before I start to need to get out. I panic and look at the other person as if they’re the enemy. They’re going to see deep down to the very dark parts of me and judge it all. I’m a runner. I’ve always been a runner.
So maybe that’s where the attraction to men who can’t ever fully be with me comes in.
If you never want to be vulnerable, someone who’s distracted by their own shit is the perfect way to get out of your own. I never had to be fully honest because it’s not like it matters. They were only around temporarily.
When you fall in love you share those scary parts with your other half. When you find your person, you won’t feel as though they’re going to judge you for your insecurities or vulnerabilities. They’re going to be there when you fall apart with their arms wide open so you can place your head on their chest and hear their heartbeat. Their heartbeat will remind you that we’re all human. We all have blood pumping through our veins. We all have insecurities.
It’s easy to remember the times you were less than stellar and keep those as proof that your pattern is more just the way it is now. That there’s no way you can change and be happy with permanent. I’ve watched my friends get married, have kids, buy houses or find their version of stable. These are the factors that make me believe that age is really just a number. Age doesn’t mean maturity or stability.
I never realized how hard it would be having to see and examine the worst parts of me. I know I’m not some horrible person who kicks puppies on the weekend, but I do have some skeletons buried deep in my closet that have started to bubble to the surface. As my getaway feeling grows stronger, so does the need to let out all of those deep dark secrets I thought I had buried so well.
I can see the bags under my eyes from the sleepless nights of tossing and turning. I see the bloodshot eyes that come from the irritating memories that make the tears fall late at night when I’m alone with just me. I feel the anxiety in the pit of my stomach when the morning rolls around which means that I have to get out of my bed and face the world as if nothing is wrong.
Ultimately we all have a breaking point. We all have a moment where we need to just getaway or face the music. From one runner to another, if you stay still long enough maybe you can face your fears and forgive yourself.