It is always more difficult to deal
with your own issues, to fight your own demons, to be strong when your world is
collapsing. But ask me if I could do it for my family, for my friends and for the people I care about like there is no tomorrow. Ask me and I will tell you that there is nothing I won’t
do for those people. There is no battle I wouldn’t fight for them because
love is the where I get my strength from, it is what sets my whole being on fire and make me keep on going well past my limits.
Ask me how painful it is to me to
see the people I love hurt, I will tell you it feels like your heart dropping
in your stomach and breaking into pieces as if it was a fine porcelain vase
that was dropped on the concrete. Ask me about what I would be willing to do to
make their pain go away and I would tell you anything.
But then if you asked me about my
pain, I would lose my words. I would smile and remain silent because sometimes
it comes in waves and when it does, there are nights where I am drowning. So I won’t
say a word. I will not hush a word because I would hate to do so and realize
that I can’t say a single word without disappearing into a puddle of tears. I won’t
say a word because I hate how my heart starts beating faster, how the pain just
jumps on me out of nowhere and punches me in the gut without me being able to
do anything. I won’t say a word because I hate how my voice starts to crack the
minute I start talking and I have to stop midsentence to close my eyes, breathe
and ask my body to chill the fuck out because the pain is not here anymore…. Or
is it?
And perhaps that is the reason
why I am always trying to fix people, comfort them and help them heal… maybe it
is because helping them through their pain feels like healing mine. Perhaps being
there for them and helping them go through is my therapy, my way of coming to
term with my own pain. Or maybe it is just a counter mechanism that kicks in
because I know how it feels when people give up on you or When you walk around
smiling while carrying the weight of the world on your shoulder, keeping your
reputation of a strong and badass chick/guy intact during the day but then
rushing to get home because you might give in and collapse under the weight of
all that pain and bitterness you carry everyday at any moment.
Perhaps I am working on helping
other people heal to distract myself and earn forgiveness for all those times I
wasn’t strong enough to stand for myself, for all those time I let myself down.
We are the way we are for a
reason and sometimes it takes more than a few words to explain it to people. Sometimes
it takes them to walk into your shoes, walk your paths and fight the battles you
had to fight. The only difference is that I had to fight mine on your own, in the walled in silent and hiding behind well preserved appearances on day where the pain was bearable.
When you have been through hell
and come back, you are never the same person again. Perhaps that is the reason
why I am such a chronic wounded healer, walking around mending other people’s
wounds and not really caring about mine, even though I am secretly hoping that
one day I will be strong enough to heal them. Then maybe a day will come where I
won’t be silent when you will ask me about my pain and my wounds. Perhaps that day,
I will smile and show you my scars and then I will hug you and tell you that
things get better.
