twenty(or)something

Well, I know what I’ve been told
You gotta know just when to fold
But I can’t do this all on my own
No, I know, I’m no Superman
Lazlo Bane, “I’m No Superman”

I had a rough start at the beginning of the week, a culmination of several situations over the course of the past few weeks, days, that reached a boiling point and erupted in a torrent of emotion. It was a time of weakness, I would say, but I know that isn’t right.

Rather, it was a time of being human.

I stand by everything I wrote, though I wrote it while emotion was running high and I felt my strength was running low. Those fears have abated, my strength is restored, but the sentiments, the questions, still remain, retreating deep again. Because I don’t know if I’ll ever have answers, though I may have some sense of understanding. I may have peace.

This wasn’t a test for me. This wasn’t a challenge, though it felt like one as I cursed the Universe out. It may not have even been a lesson to be learned.

But it was a chance. A chance to realize what I have, in the face of what I’ve lost, in the fear of what I could lose.

I don’t really know how to ask for help when I need it most, and, truth be told, I felt ashamed that I needed to. I think I thought that I’m supposed to be some kind of superwoman — able to handle anything that life throws at me with ease.

Only, I’m no superwoman. I’m just human. And it’s not always so easy.

And I think I thought that I had to carry all that myself, holding up my world, trying not to bend and break from the weight of it all, trying to still be there for others as I struggled to keep myself upright.

Only, I can’t take on the world. At least, not always by myself. I needed a bit of back-up.

I needed someone.

In never wanting to place the burden on someone else, I ended up placing all of it upon myself, but that weight is sometimes too much for one person, causing more harm than good. Everyone needs someone at times, even the fiercely independent types. And I’ve been foolish to think otherwise, to think that asking for help was a sign of weakness.

Because I’ve realized that there’s a strength in numbers, and your family and friends and community are there, answering your plea, though it’s sometimes a silent one. I’ve found that they will hear you when you’re unable to say the words, urging you to transfer some of that weight onto their shoulders, willing because they care just as much. I’ve discovered that sense of relief when you realize independence doesn’t mean being alone, that the people who surround you will hold you up when you feel ready to fall.

And I’ve realized that even Superwoman had her back-up, just as I have mine. And she only needed to speak up, ask for help, and they would be there: ready and waiting.

Will you think that you’re all alone
When no one’s there to hold your hand?
When all you know seems so far away
And everything is temporary, rest your head
David Cook, “Permanent”

I went for a drive yesterday, feeling restless, needing to get away, wanting to clear the cobwebs from my mind. I’d been locked inside of myself, facing a personal solitude and emotional overhaul these past few days that I haven’t quite been able to escape. I wanted to shed myself of that thick, heavy skin, return to my usual sunshine, positive, strong sense of self.

But sometimes even the strong have chips in their armor. And sometimes, even those smiles can falter and fade.

I drove down familiar roads, listening to my favorite music, feeling the warm summer wind sweep through the car. I knew exactly where I was going. I knew before I even left the house, even confirming directions from my dad, who has been there so many times before.

I slowed and turned onto the drive, American flags lining the pathway as a guide, a salute, an offer of remembrance. My grandfather was buried here in the National Cemetery at Fort Indiantown Gap five years ago, though I hadn’t been back since. But I missed him. I miss him always. And I needed something that I didn’t think I would find anywhere else.

I followed the curves in the road, reading the signs that led to his section. And when I reached it, I pulled over, stepped out of the car, and walked among the stones, surrounded by names of those who had served with honor, those who had loved with heart. My eyes skimmed over the markers until they rested on one so familiar, so beloved…So permanent. I started to cry.

And I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop.

A flood of emotions that I’ve been holding in swept through me as that dam broke. I broke. And everything from the past few weeks poured out.

Everything I thought I had has seemed to slip through my fingers in a matter of weeks, days, hours, seconds and I can’t seem to stop myself from losing these things anymore than I could stop his illness, anymore than I could fight that change. Anymore than I could keep them.

I don’t know why love doesn’t always matter. I don’t know why it can’t stop you from hurting, stop you from losing. I don’t understand it. I don’t. I don’t understand why the most important thing in the world — the only thing that should ever matter — can’t change anything.

I have so much and I’ve never been more grateful. But I’ve lost so much, and I’ve never felt more scared.

I believe in love. I believe in hope. I believe there’s a strength within us that can be challenged, but never beaten, a spirit that can be bruised but never truly broken.

I believe in this.

But I feel a little broken, crumbling from the weight, trying to carry it all, and, for the first time, I don’t know how to hold myself up. I don’t know how to fix it.

I know I’ll find that courage, find my strength again. And those chips in the armor will be mended, renewed; I know those smiles can fade, but never truly disappear. And the tears will dry and I’ll whisper my goodbyes again like a silent prayer as I walk away, return to my car and my life and continue on, moving forward.

I know I’ll be able to build myself back up again, piece by piece. Because I’ve changed and come a long, long way. And I know what I have to offer, I know what I’m capable of now.

But I think I need help this time. Because I’m a little bit scared. And I don’t think I want to do this on my own.

Social media and the online world is a funny, sometimes even fickle thing. People whom you’ve considered acquaintances, dared to deem friends, and a community you believed to be supportive and encouraging can all be uprooted in a moment. If you let it.

I’m a huge advocate for social media because I’ve witnessed its benefits and successes firsthand. By laying the foundation for a strong community, social media builds upon conversation and connections to make the world seem smaller, to share news and stories, to report on successes and failures so that we can all feel that familiar pride or sympathy, but most importantly, so we can learn.

I always thought of social media as a relatively safe place — the blog was a platform for personal growth while gaining new perspectives and valued insight; Facebook was a way to connect and reconnect; and Twitter…Twitter is somewhat of a magical world wherein you can converse, debate, share information, share a part of yourself. Twitter is the tie that binds those spread across various locales together, connecting us with another human being and deepening that bond. Some may say it’s superficial, and taking a look at the trending topics and the communities that some choose to build, that point is certainly valid. But these platforms are always what you make of them, and I have seen extraordinary connections being made as we peel back layer after layer and get to know each other as neighbors, as world-wide colleagues, as potential friends.

With social media, specifically Twitter as that platform, I have set that foundation and have subsequently built and become a part of such a strong community, filled with good, genuine, and generous people, whom I am honored to have met when it otherwise may not have been possible, many of whom have become real-life friends. I’m proud of this community, this network, because of those who work hard to make it worthwhile, engaging in conversation and valuable debate that offer perspectives and insight, that allow you to change and grow and become an overall better person.

However.

Unfortunately, there are some who willingly take advantage of that, who infiltrate the community and poison the good, perhaps only because they are feeling vindictive and calculating and maybe even unreasonably, unnecessarily threatened. Perhaps they truly, innocently misunderstand, but more often than not, as I’ve recently learned, there are those who wish to do more harm than good for no perceivable reason other than the fact that they are petty and callous. Yes, there are some people in this world who would rather remain seated behind the cloaked safety of the internet and place judgment on others, make faulty assumptions, and wreak upset on a life rather than actively communicate concern, engage in discussion, and connect with or get to know the person behind the name.

I’ve been told before that I can be too trusting of people, too naive. I completely agree. It’s almost to a fault. I like to believe that people are generally good, that they have given the world a reason to have faith in them and that they will prove the world right. I’ve recently been proven wrong, and through trusting blindly I have been affected and am deeply disappointed and saddened, if not a bit unclear and confused by the motivations behind the actions.

And yet, even still, I have found that one person cannot shake my belief in people, and it certainly cannot shake my belief in myself. If anything, it is making me stronger, and them seem a little weaker.

I believe in social media and I advocate for it every chance I get. It is a strong community like any other, where @names are house numbers and @replies are the doorbells, introducing potential friends and welcoming conversation and connections. My faith in this platform and my belief in this community is stronger than ever. As such, my faith and belief in myself remains unwavering.

Can you say the same?

I’ve lived long enough to have learned
The closer you get to the fire,
the more you get burned.
But that won’t happen to us…
Billy Joel, “A Matter of Trust”

I went to a friend’s house this weekend for some much-needed downtime. We hung around their small fire pit in the backyard and told stories of reminiscence late into the evening. “Remember when…?” one would ask, and we laughed as we remembered when. Three of us had been friends for nearly ten years, and as one was fairly recently married, an easy friendship formed between his wife and I.

We joked and we talked and we roasted marshmallows and hot peppers and whatever else we could find in their cupboards. It felt good, it felt natural, it felt comfortable. And I realized that I don’t always feel that way with people, even with close friends.

At one point in our conversations, we began talking about relationships, and I mentioned that it takes me a very long time to feel completely at ease with situations, with people.

“Sometimes I feel like I walk around with an energy that says ‘stand back, keep your distance,’ I admitted.

“Yeah,” said Jersey friend, completely serious. “You even do that with me.”

I paused, and I looked at him. And then I looked at my other friends, the couple, who kind of nodded in agreement.

And I knew, as much as I hated to admit even that, that it was true.

I don’t mean to. Pushing people away is the very last thing I want, but I know that this happens and I know that I’m at least partly to blame. Because I can feel that there’s a side of myself that’s hesitant, wary, reserved.

I know, am so aware of the fact, that I give off this vibe that says ‘give me space’ and ‘don’t get too close,’ when all I really want to say is ignore that, come close, get to know me.

Help me let down my guard…

Because as much as I hate to admit it, as trusting and open and friendly as I like to think I am, as much as I’m really trying to break down those walls, they’re still up, still standing.

Still holding strong.

Why do I create such an inner defense? Why, even with my closest friends, do I feel the need to keep my distance?

What is it about myself that I’m trying to protect?

“Leap before looking” isn’t a phrase I live by, but it’s one I desperately want to adapt. I hate the hesitant side of myself, the one that tests the waters, the one that feels so closed off, even among the people I care about most. I know that they’re some of my closest friends, they’re not going anywhere, so what am I so afraid of?

But maybe that’s just it. Maybe that’s why this wall has been created, why I keep my distance, why I hesitate. Because if you don’t get too close, you can’t lose someone, you can’t get hurt.

But if you don’t get close enough, you could lose everything anyway.

I wonder if maybe I once considered myself so independent that people tended to think I didn’t need them, despite needing them.

I wonder if maybe that didn’t help to create this vibe, this space, this distance, despite wanting to be more open, be closer.

I wondered, once, if maybe I just needed to embrace that and learn to leap for myself.

But these friends have shown me in recent weeks that they’re still here, still willing to stand by me despite feeling so closed off, despite this distance that I’ve subconsciously maintained. And, ironically, I feel closer to them than I have in the ten years of our friendship, and it feels good, it feels safe, it feels right.

They’ve taught me that friendship is really two-sided, that there are people who care enough about you, too, to push back, to help you realize that you don’t need to do everything yourself. They’ve shown me that you don’t have to create that distance, that they’ll be there no matter what.

And they’ll reach out to you when you need it but can’t express it.

And they’ll take your hand and smile in reassurance and let you know that they’re right beside you.

And then…they’ll take that leap with you.

I recently had the pleasure of speaking with Jun Loayza of Viralogy’s Awesome Revolution. Jun is such a cool, smart guy and is doing some amazing things to bring the community of bloggers together. With each interview, he shows you another side, really helps you to get to know the blogger as a writer, but, perhaps more importantly, as a person.

When I spoke with Jun, I had the opportunity to share my appreciation for all that this blog has done for me, as well as express my own love for writing and passion for helping shelter dogs.

Thanks to Jun for a great conversation and opportunity — be sure to check out the site for the complete post and discover other awesome bloggers. And thanks also to Andrew Norcross for showing me how to embed the video below!