Perhaps this entry is an extension of what I wrote previously. I mentioned about how I was remaining detached, but that’s the most I can do. Some people can “toughen up” or seal their hearts off in times of difficulty, but I am not one of them. I am soft-hearted and vulnerable by nature, and the very most I can do is distance from sensitive triggers. But if anything or anyone gets to those triggers before I can move them away, all my vulnerabilities are touched.
To be honest, I don’t mind who I am. I actually made a conscious decision that I wanted to be like this back when I was a teenager, because I didn’t want to become at risk for growing bitter or mistrusting just because pain can happen. And I’ve managed to accomplish avoiding those qualities and similar ones; for that I am proud of myself.
What’s clear to me is vulnerability is where I need to live. I need a life space to be the vulnerable person I am, and to still be safe, empowered and nurtured. When I have lacked that is when I’ve suffered the most. The hardest situations to divine (when it comes to choosing or not choosing them) is when there is some of what I need and some of what is opposite. But I cannot go long living in an environment where I have to detach from being vulnerable and still keep the sense of being who I am, feeling alive, and being to others the Amy who is generously caring, giving, and dynamic.
I thought of myself as water, but maybe the water is my vulnerability. Maybe I am a sponge. Something that can be squeezed, poked, and crushed but always comes back to its shape when it absorbs the water. Something that can only get a little hard when dried out for long, but even then, as soon as immersed in water, the sponge is soft as it ever was again. But the sponge is useless without something to absorb. It’s useless unless it is filled with something, over and over again.
I realized that one of the reasons I started writing here again was because it’s a way to live my vulnerability. I can come here and feel safe to be whatever I am. I can come here to explore myself and even make mistakes while doing it, and no one will judge me (or if they do, I won’t know it). I can come here and show what’s bent in me, even what’s broken, and it’s not a threat to anyone else. I need that right now.