Layers of Vulnerability

I took a moment to re-read a few of my previous entries.

Much of what I write are aspirations. Aspirations that I am working towards, and by no means, have perfected (or will ever perfect in my humble opinion).

Much of what I write I know with practice and time I can achieve, especially in situations where there present little trial or tribulation... Yet, what life is there if not one where we are tested. During these tests, I am pushed just a little bit more - to reflect on that which I aspire.

I aspire to acknowledge that I am human. And human with all my sensitivities... For I am a sensitive human. The double-edged sword of my existence that I am embracing as simply "me."

One thing that I have discovered is that being vulnerable / real is not difficult. However, I am beginning to appreciate that there are many layers to my vulnerability. While most people see the facet of me that is honest and true, they are often protected from the reverberations of emotions that may pass through (albeit temporarily) as an undercurrent. They see someone that has a handle on it. The truth is - below all the layers, there is a core that is stable, calm and (never did I think I could say this) whole. Yet, I am a sum of all these layers. And sometimes, I don't have a handle, and you know - it is okay. It doesn't have to be any less or more than it is, and when the emotions have reverberated through... I am still a sum of all these layers.

My father, who cares deeply for me, grows deeply concerned when he see me suffer. He finds it hard to talk about what causes me the pain he sees me feel. Often, he worries that I need to "just get over it." And, he is right - there is no benefit to making something more than it is. However, for me, simply being in that moment can appear quite distressing. Why appear? The truth is, I know when I am distressed that I am distressed. I know now that I simply need to be with my sadness, and my pain. I need to comfort it, and acknowledge it. When it is painful, I simply seek comfort. To know I can bear that pain on my sleeve, and it's alright, because that is where I am at the moment. Even I know that moment will pass. Perhaps, not today or tomorrow, but soon...
However, my distress ... distresses my father. And day after day, he will call out of fear that I remain distressed, which is not something he would like for me. I am sorry my pain hurts him so - I wish he knew - all I seek from him is comfort that ... "this too will pass but it's okay to feel."

It's okay to be the human that you are.