Rejection, in any form, can break your heart. Whether it is done in a kind and sensitive way, that is intended to deflect blame, or in a way that seems to be dismissive, and only serves to patronize, or diminish one’s feelings…hurts. like. hell.
After so many years of hiding behind a protective wall, peeking out from the light-filtering curtains now and then, and testing the waters by dipping your toes in, to see if the temperature feels “comfortable”, gives a false sense of bravery… and then you take a deep breath and decide to “go for it”… only to be shut down, without a second thought. Oh yeah, that feels familiar, and you remember why you built up that wall in the first place…and you cry yourself to sleep, admonishing your actions, and promising to do better, be better, look better. Yeah, that sucks.
I’ve written about being vulnerable before, and putting yourself “out there” by feeling strong, and finding courage in a universe that is disguised as “fate”, but that is really hard to do. I can’t fathom having to do this all over again. I’m not as strong as I used to be… nor am I as weak as I have been. I have no one else to blame but myself, really. Making choices based on what feels “right” or “right at the time” has always been my own “Mt. Everest” that has yet to be conquered.
I know what I don’t want… and what I want has been oh, so elusive. At some point, I have to wonder if I should even try… I mean, the odds are against me, especially at my age. There is something comfortable in being alone… there is no heartache without some kind of rejection. It only hurts when you try, and fail.
Nurses fix things, don’t they? They are the constant during the worst times, who use everything that they have in their “comfort care” fanny pack to lessen the pain and make the hard things… bearable. But what if the pain is in their own heart and mind? Who fixes that? Asking for a friend…
I am, as ever.