vulnerable

Feral Heart

This heart is a frightened feral thing
with fragile trembling tendrils of trust
that take time and tender care to unfurl
and retract at the smallest sign of turbulence

A heart that slams closed as soon as rain comes
the sudden jarring crash of a heavy wood frame
scattering shards of glass across wet floors
wild moments of instantaneous implosion

This heart, it hides and prefers hollow echoes
the slow, consistent ache that's familiar
recoiling from the violence of vulnerability
cowering from slight whiffs of rejection

This heart is a frightened feral thing
adept at hiding inside dark corners
a tedious, painful toil can earn its trust
I hope you'll decide it's worth the effort

Attachment

I’m sure we’re all familiar with the feeling of absolute devastation when we lose someone that we love. Whether it be through death, divorce, distance, or any other circumstance it always seems unbearable. I am reluctant to even remember the many times I’ve lost someone in my life. These events led to some of my darkest moments. At times I even contemplated giving up all together. The lingering memories of that pain cause me to have great caution when forming new relationships. I am always trying to brace myself for the worst. Trying to keep just enough distance to keep my heart safe.

I remember recently being afraid for my sister in this regard. She has been living with her new boyfriend for around a year now. She was telling me how everything is okay now because she has him. While I was happy for her, I was also terrified to hear those words. I was afraid for her. What would happen if he decided to leave? I gently brought this to her attention, urged her to try to keep her heart and mind safe somehow. The thing is, we both knew that wasn’t really possible. You cannot ration your love for someone. You can’t plan to protect yourself from future pain, no matter how much you want to.

Even though I’ve only had a boyfriend again for a week, my mind is already flooded with future scenarios. Now that I’ve invested my feelings in another again, I am terrified of the wrenching pain that would ensue if he leaves me. To lose all of my newfound happiness and hope in one fell swoop. I don’t know if I could bear going through that type of pain again. But that is the price we pay for love. In order to experience it, we have to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. And to be vulnerable means risking being hurt, perhaps even ensuring that we will be hurt. We only have one decision to make: is it worth it?

I’m not going to allow the fear of the future to keep me from loving will all of my heart. Love is what this life is about after all. It’s always worth the risk. It’s always worth the pain. Even if I tried to lock my heart away, there will always be painful moments. After all, we all have to let go of everything in the end. What’s important is learning how to appreciate and be fully present with what we have while we have it. It’s okay to need other people. It’s also okay that they sometimes let us down. Both of these things are important parts of what it means to be human.

When my boyfriend comes over today, I am going to let all of these worries go. I am going to simply enjoy the time we have together right now. I am going to be present with him in every moment. I am going to be grateful for what we have today, even if it doesn’t last forever. I will no longer allow fear to close my heart. I will love with everything that I’ve got. And I’ll keep loving until the day I die, no matter the cost.

Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) on Pexels.com

Relearning Vulnerability

I’ve always struggled with letting my guard down around people. There are very few people in my life that are given the chance to see the real me. I’m only able to open up on this blog because none of the people I know if real life even know it exists. I suppose even if they did though, it would be easier to tell them these things behind the veil of words and screens than upfront and personal. For as long as I can remember, there has always been this small voice deep in my heart that tells me I must hide myself away. It warns me that I mustn’t reveal my true, full self to anyone. That no one would be able to accept, let alone love, the real me.

There have only been a couple of people in my life that I felt really saw me and chose to love me anyway. There is nothing more precious to me than the relationship I have with these people. They are my world. I am humbled by their love. Most days I don’t feel worthy of it. They have seen all the ugliest parts of me throughout the years and yet they are still willing to stand by my side, to be there for me. It seems impossible, but it’s true. And there is nothing that they could do that would change my powerful love for them. I’m sure they feel the same, although my mind doesn’t want to believe it.

Secrets separate. Secrets create space. I’ve noticed throughout my life that the more secrets I keep from people, the lonelier I feel. Sometimes it feels like I am playing a character when I interact with others. But the longer I play that character, the more certain I feel that my true self would be unacceptable to show. I even fear people seeing through my facade. I have always been so brutal towards myself. Always telling myself I am not enough, that my many flaws disqualify me from love. But life and love aren’t so black and white.

There are few things in life as beautiful and meaningful as bearing your soul to someone and receiving in return their unwavering, unflinching love. The mere concept is almost enough to bring me to tears. Yet at the same time, there is nothing more painful than bearing your soul and having it rejected. Few things are able to cut so deep, to leave such jagged scars. Such is the duality of life. We must always take big risks if we hope to have the chance for big rewards. I know I’ve once again reached that fork in the road where I must choose to take that risk.

Even though I have decided to trade vulnerability for intimacy, I’m honestly not sure how anymore. It has become second nature for me to cut and edit myself to be more pleasing to others, especially those I admire and respect. The idea of “being myself” seems utterly foreign to me now. I’ve isolated myself to black and white. The shade of grey that is truly me got lost somewhere along the way. I suppose that uncertainty is all part of relearning how to be vulnerable. I don’t have to be sure. I’ve just got to be honest and try my best.

Afraid to be Seen

It’s a frustrating thing to desperately want connection, while also fearing the very connection you crave. At this point in my life the fear seems to be much greater than the desire. It’s almost as if I’d rather be alone than risk rejection. My fear is so daunting that it seems easier to just turn away. I give up on myself far too easily.

The event that has spurred this particular introspection happened at work yesterday. Someone my organization works with began trying to set me up with his son. I genuinely like the man, and his son seems very nice. At first I was pretty excited. I find meeting people in these types of ways normally works out better than meeting someone online. I was also quite flattered that he would consider me a good match for his son.

However, once things got real and I actually began messaging back and forth with this new guy, the fear started to set in. What if I don’t like him? I can’t ghost him. I can’t let things end in an awkward or immature way like I usually do. His dad would end up hating me! What if he doesn’t like me? What if he discovers all the weird, gross, irritating stuff about me and tells his father?! I immediately began regretting putting myself in this position. The fear easily overtook any excitement I felt initially. To be frank, I feel like any eventuality besides us falling in love and being together forever will end in complete disaster and immense embarrassment and awkwardness for me at work. And let’s be honest, how likely is it that any relationship of mine will end well? I don’t have a very good track record in that department.

Despite being petrified, I’m trying to find a good spin to put on the situation in my head. Part of me thinks: Okay, this will be a good thing. Either way, I’ll be forced into learning how to behave like an adult. I’ll be forced to be a good, responsible person. I will not have the option of just disappearing this time to avoid confrontation. I’ll have to be honest with this boy and myself. I’ll also be less likely to immediately write him off for trivial things like I normally do with potential partners. I’ll have genuine motivation to make this work out. I mean, it would be amazing to some day be a part of that coworker’s family.

But there I go again, getting WAY too ahead of myself. I can never seem to just relax and let things play out on their own. I immediately start dissecting all the potential problems that could occur years into the future. It’s psychotic. And even after calming my anxiety about all of the reasons I may not like him, I still haven’t gotten to the possibility that I do like him. Perhaps he won’t like me. Who could blame him? I’m the worst.

There are so many things about myself that I would be mortified to expose to anyone else. There are so many aspects of myself that I feel like I need to work on before I could ever ask anyone to consider me as a romantic partner. However, will I ever feel good enough? Maybe this is a good chance to find the motivation to work on those parts of myself. It is always more appealing to me when I feel I am improving myself with someone else in mind.

I suppose it’s too late to turn back now. I’ll just have to do my best and hope it turns out okay in the end. I’m going to have to just forget about all the reasons this could be awful and focus on the reasons it could be fun. I have to learn to believe in myself. I have to believe that I am a good person. That I am worthwhile. That I can do this…