People who let me be weak.
So much of my life is a projection of my strength. I’m glad I have it. I’m so glad I’m strong. I’m so proud to be strong. But the last month and half or so have been heavy and hard. They have weighed on me. They have pushed me. All the while the lives around me seem to crumble.
Every time I start to have emotions (that I very much need to deal with) bubbling to the surface, someone will call. An election occurs. Chaos will reign. It just keeps getting worse. And because it is what I have always done, I stay strong. Some of that is social pressure. It’s what people expect or silently demand from me. But a lot of it is me. I shove things down and power through what’s at hand. Putting aside my own feelings for a later date.
There’s so much I still haven’t begun to deal with. Surgery. Attempted drugging. Walking off my job. Tiny things. Huge things. All have been interrupted by the concerns of other people. I’m happy and proud to be safe for people. But I often neglect myself in that.
I am so grateful for the people who let me break, who don’t think less of me for showing weakness, who still call those weaknesses strengths. Even if they nustcome out in bursts or a slew of sad, sad thoughts in the car. I’m just so thankful.