Sometimes I forget how different it was to be a child. You didn’t bare the burdens you do as an adult. You didn’t shy away from asking from help and if something hurt, everyone knew – even if it was through a monumental meltdown in the middle of a public space. You didn’t close yourself off to pain, suffering, trust, or fear. You believed in everything to a fault and thought that anything you believed in was worth fighting for, no matter how petty it seemed because in those moments? Nothing was petty. Everything was worth it. People were good and showed little evil. People were honest and helpful. People were genuine, sincere, and pure.
Call it ignorance, call it immaturity, call it temporary blindness – life was simple.
But along the way, we all become a little bit jaded with the world’s impurities. You realize that not everyone is good. You see the darkness that consumes some. You stop asking for help when it’s painfully obvious to you that you need it. You stop trusting automatically and create a list of guidelines that must be followed for your trust to be earned. And the more that trust is broken, the longer those guidelines get. And the longer they get, the harder it is for anyone to be trusted. And the harder it is for anyone to be trusted, the more alone you feel and the world starts to feel impossible to live in.
I’ve questioned myself numerous times in the past few weeks, wondering if the judgement I selected as I aged was the proper one for me. Wondering if that innocence and understanding with the world was lost for good. Wondering if I was too far gone to get some of back, reinventing myself and the path I’ve paved.
Has pride overcome me? Has the pain and frustration from putting more in than I’ve received tainted my purity? Have the events of my past created a person I’m ready to be?
Yes, yes, and no.
Pride has drilled my mistakes and misfortunes into my core, spiraling into a broken soul weighed down by the fallacies of my own life. The overwhelming pain of putting so much in and getting so little in return at times has settled deep in my mind, going off like a flare gun every time I consider giving what I’m actually capable of giving. And I’ve become tortured from my past, despite the growth I’ve seen from it. It’s built the fortress I’ve become – strong and steady – but it comes with a battleground of broken dreams and lost hopes.
I want my innocence back. I want to dream without expectations or knowledge of how impossible things may be. I want to trust first, think later. I want to believe in the good over the bad. I want to open my wounds and let them heal properly this time around. I want to forgive AND forget. I want to smile and mean it. I want to know that the suffering I endeared was to make me stronger only – and not leave me with empty footprints from a life that went unloved. I want to find courage that allows me to reach out for help when I need a hand. I want to be brave enough to speak when my beliefs are creating a stampede through the mundane thoughts that usually settle in my brain.
I want all of this before it’s too late and there’s no going back to the beginning.
What if this storm ends?
And leaves us nothing
Except a memory
A distant echo
Snow Patrol – The Lightning Strike
My heart feels heavy as I write this, knowing that the things I wish to change are surrounded by walls built by a mastermind. Safeguards to protect my heart, my soul, my core. They don’t just tumble down with a light blow anymore – they stand tall, beacons for what I’ve done to stay alive. But if I built them, I know how to demolish them. I know their weaknesses and I know where they are sealed with extra support to maintain their balance. I know why they went up and I know how they will fall. It won’t be pretty and it sure as hell won’t be easy, but I would give just about anything to look at the world through the eyes of a child again.
What’s your story this week?