We climb, we crawl
Tear down the wall
That we’ve torn down before
It’s not too late…
Shiny Toy Guns, “I Owe You A Love Song”
I spend a lot of time trying to convince myself of my own strength, trying to fight vulnerability for fear of what it means to lay down your guard. I’ve built these walls, layer after layer, day after day, never realizing how thick they were getting because all the while I went on loving, caring, smiling, laughing. Yet still the wall grew — a silent, standing guard between the outside world and my heart.
If I tear down just one layer, I could ruin everything, my mind constantly reminds me. I could end up hurting someone.
I could end up hurting myself.
And so I hold myself back and the wall keeps building, the distance between me and possibility continuing to grow. And all the while I’m still loving, caring, smiling, laughing behind this wall that’s getting too high, too thick. I can still feel; I can still love. But not fully, and not completely. Because that would mean letting someone in behind this wall I’ve so carefully constructed.
And I’m afraid what that might mean.
Yes. Sometimes, I’m afraid of finding happiness.
Sometimes there are rare moments when a small part of me wonders if I deserve it.
I know that this part of me is very wrong. But I also know that all fear holds some truth. This fear is what this wall is built upon. Not just bricks of experiences, but layers of what-if, held together by a mortar mix of sudden, unexpected insecurities.
You can carry on behind your wall, finding happiness and self-worth in other areas of your life. You can convince yourself that everything is exactly as it should be, that you’re fine, that you’re happy, that life is right on track.
Until one day someone stops and hears that beating heart, despite these thick walls that’s been put firmly into place. And they take a moment, maybe see who you really are, see what you can‘t see for yourself. And they make you smile, laugh. They make you care.
And you realize what it means to have someone want to break down that wall and discover the person underneath. You realize what it means to let yourself become vulnerable again, no matter what this outcome, though you already know it means something. And if it means something, it must be worthwhile.
So little by little, layer by layer, day by day, you begin to deconstruct that wall, finding the strength to let them in because you know it might be worth it. You know that they might be worth it. And all that time you spend trying to fight it is just wasted energy.
Because you’re worth the chance to have something good in your life, even if it’s only potential, no matter where it leads.
Even if it scares you.
Especially when it scares you.