confession

i don’t cry easily…i mean, it happens. occasionally. but not all that often. when it does, it’s not usually because i’m hurting. it’s because i’m ashamed. ashamed of my lack of courage, faith, or sympathy, ashamed of my selfishness, or ashamed of not being the person i know i’m capable of being. the tears are usually brought on by some unrelated issue….but i don’t cry because i’m sad. i cry because my concerns are so trivial. but what i realized this evening was that however trivial, my concerns are very real to me. the fact that my mind has regarded them as insignificant is of little importance; my heart, not my mind, controls my feelings. i’m not convinced that i can think my way into a better place. i believe that my heart needs to be touched. it’s like there’s some part of me hibernating in there without enough energy (or confidence) to fight its way to the surface.
i took a walk in the rain tonight. i passed familiar doors, those often found to be particularly heavy. for the first time i asked asked myself a simple question out loud: “are you okay?” the words startled me. my spoken answer was perhaps equally surprising: “no, i’m not.” i’ve shrugged off that question for a long time. it’s always been important for me to be the strong one. i’ve never wanted help–i’ve never wanted to believe that anyone was capable of helping me. is it a pride thing? i suppose. but i’m tired. tired of hiding and tired of wrapping myself in my own arms. i’m tired of this day, this week. and i’m ready to do something about it.
the fact that i don’t have everything figured out should come as no surprise to you. no one does. it’s as simple as that. but being described as “the most together person [you] know”?* i don’t think so. something about that line makes me feel like i’ve been a lying fool.
all the pipes are leaking if you notice it i guess. is that all it takes? someone to notice? if we all explained to each other how much we really cared, would it be okay? or would we all scare each other away? there’s certainly living proof of both circumstances. an unexpected phone call can mean the world to a someone. but then there are other times…
anyway. i don’t know if cleaning out my inbox and making room in my desk drawers will change anything. but i hope that no matter how deep i go, i’ll want someone to know me.
*w, no worries, i don’t remember everything you say, this just stuck.