Unearthing your vulnerability isn’t symbolic of your resignation to defeat.
To bear what I know, in silence, seems criminal to me. If I’ve lived the experience, how can I be quiet and let another endure similar or worse? Instead, I risk judgment and choose to open up my soul, hoping that one or two may be inspired to look deeper within or ahead.
I’ve come to realize that I’ve spent considerable time in worry. I toil over control of other’s perceptions of my weakness. If I speak up, what will other’s think? Will anyone understand that my concern is not about my struggle? Will they see that I don’t seek pity? I am deeply rooted in my faith; I am reassured of it every waking moment, especially each morning, when I rise to the glory of the gift of daylight.
In the middle of the night, I am restless. It’s 2:57 a.m., and I have a nine o’clock. My mind is still moving as if it’s post meridiem. I am sometimes grateful for sleeplessness because I get bright ideas about expounding on the topics I’ve decided to write, or I dance. Yes, I turn on the music, and I dance alone. However, my body in its current state needs sleep and lots of it. Oh wait, I can take half the dose of Melatonin now, and I might be able to get three or four hours. Can’t take the full amount, or I’ll wake up feeling sluggish. I do, and I sleep for three. I know what you are thinking — why not take it earlier in the night, so you sleep sooner? Let’s go back to where I started; my quest to control others’ perceptions of my weakness is not only projected outward; I do the same for me. I can sleep if I put my mind to it. I can fall asleep. I don’t need help with that. Don’t even confess it into reality. God does not help those who cannot help themselves. I can do this on my own.
Just as I do for sleep, I must do for my safety.
I feel defeated because of the suggestion that I may need assistance in keeping a steady gait. Warriors don’t need aid; they stand tall on their own. They can balance well, and they seldom stumble. Now everyone will be able to tell from afar that something isn’t right with me. Insecurity is rife, but let’s be practical. Incorporating an assistive device is indeed a prudent thing to do. Why risk falling? I could be in far worse shape if were to fall and, say, break a hip or worse, crack my skull. One swift tumble can result in so much more damage than will be done to my ego, my pride, or vanity.
If you are faithful, pray while you do the work. Invite others to pray for you. Invoke inspiration; pray for others. Unearthing your vulnerability isn’t symbolic of your resignation to defeat. It is subjecting to one’s humanity. It is understanding and with the utmost objectivity that no one is an island. We must allow ourselves the grace to seek help when we need to replenish our wilted emotions, our exhausted spirits. There must not be a reason to fall in shame or fear. You cannot be an authentic proponent of offering a hand if you question yourself before accepting a shoulder.
