Fun fact, I bruise like a peach, or a lily, which ever euphemism you prefer. Both literally and figuratively, the slightest abrasion causes the rupture of vessels under the surface.
This is not a cry for help, this is not a confession of abuse, don’t you fret. It is more so a realization that I am currently trying to work through in my “fragile” state.
I am, generally, a strong person. I hate the concept of being weak. The more I think about it, the more I realize, this is probably not a good thing. Why you may ask? What is so wrong with being strong?! Nothing… at least not to a certain degree.
I would like you to consider this- real strength often means letting your guard down and showing vulnerability. Faux-strength is when you don’t cry because it makes you seem weak, you never let your guard down for fear of falling apart, and are always willing to give advice before you would ever consider receiving it. At a certain point, when you don’t tell people what is happening in your own life for fear of judgement or worse, abandonment in your time of need, those people who once needed you will stop coming to you.
Reason being, faux-strength, seems like a good idea at first, stemming from a genuine desire to be strong. People will gravitate to this and grow to see you as a pillar, someone they can count on for support, someone they can talk to… at some point however, they will realize that your aid is somewhat one sided. People need people who are willing to have a genuine conversation; altruism over advice, or something like that.
The answer isn’t yet clear to me, the bruises still stand, dark and tender. My hope, is that by recognizing their presents, seeing them for what they are and being willing to work through what caused them (instead of pretending they aren’t there), they will start to heal.
No amount of concealer can cover certain injuries, they are just too deep and dark to hide. Perhaps one day I will be better at avoiding the things which mar my delicate flesh and spirit. Until then, I will work on removing the walls I have built, listen before I speak, and allow the healing process to work it’s way through my veins.