Sometimes, I think some rather random things. I don’t know if they are worth sharing or appropriate (well, the answer is probably a resounding “NO” on both counts there, actually), but, now they’re out there. And you can’t unread them. You’re welcome. 

For the past few months, I have been carrying an oppressively heavy weight on my shoulders, the type of weight that only seems to compound with every step forward. Now, I am not a complainer; nine times in ten, I am the one who assumes the weight of the burdens that others simply can’t push forward with and help them break through. Both literally and metaphorically I consider it a gift to be able to stand as an unwavering source of strength for others.

But what happens when my burden becomes too much for me to bear? Who do I turn to for support? I find this question extremely difficult to answer when I allow it to pass through my mind in earnest.

My greatest support, in my mind has always been me. My best advocate, me. My greatest admirer, me. My best shot at growth? Success? Achievement? Greatness? Me. I learned to dig deep physically and mentally from a young age to realize my ethereal desires into existence. Instead of relying on the vitality of others when mine dwindled, I resolved to increase my reserve to have all that I needed for myself, and plenty more to share with others. When others doubted, I believed in myself. I had to. When others ignored, I had to love myself. When others would say “Don’t Jump,” I told myself “Don’t look down.” I refused to acknowledge failure, rejection, or inadequacy. I drilled into the core of my being unwavering effort, resolve from within, and absolute belief in oneself as the true strengths leading to excellence in anything. The circumstances of my childhood necessitated that I grow up this way, because I simply couldn’t expect or trust in the support of family.

Now, I’d love to say that it wasn’t, but my vitality while abundant, is still finite. So I wear many masks, each one laboriously crafted and refined over time to protect it. The one others most often see is a carefully crafted image of strength, confidence, positivity, mild foolishness, and happiness. I wear this mask so flawlessly that most people fail to realize that it is a mask. But it is a mask. Only a mask. The real person behind it is coldly intelligent, insecure, slow to trust, extremely cunning, and afraid to be vulnerable.

Who can I trust with all of this? Besides that, why should I trust anyone with all of this? I don’t even trust you enough to take you all the way down this rabbit hole!

Trust. Trust..Is it about trust?

I have been conditioned to disbelieve the “love” and “sincerity” of others, but I can’t pretend that I don’t want them; I just don’t understand how to trust them.  I know that I am broken, and I struggle to fit the pieces back together. I rationalize. I empathize. I try. To trust. I have love in my heart, and I want to share it. Unfortunately, the trouble here is that trusting, and allowing myself to be vulnerable despite my fears is a delicate process, and far too often met with results that make it very tempting to close myself off again.

Still, I ought to try. I rationalize. Isn’t that what it means to be human? Connecting with others?

Others are callous. Far too clumsy. Inconsiderate of feelings beyond their own, and the impact that has. Yet, isn’t this a good reason to try? Someone has to be considerate; Mask or no, I know I want mindfulness from others, so I assume others want the same. I don’t know. What I do know is that it is incredibly difficult to find the balance between being open enough to forge true connections to others and guarding your own vitality.

So when I reach the point when I can no longer hold my burdens without stumbling, I am genuinely scared, because it means I have lost my greatest support, and who can support me better than myself? I carry a lot; enough to crush others under the weight, how can I put that on someone else?

I reached that point recently. And I was utterly humbled to find that when I did, the very people who I strove to support when they stumbled, were right there supporting me. Although each person could hold only a small bit of my burden, each bit was held by an  unwavering pillar supporting exactly what was needed to help me push forward and break through. Ethereal made tangible; the painfully confusing contextualized. Sincerity validated; trust rewarded.

Lately, it’s been hard for me to smile. It’s good to see that I haven’t forgotten how to.

-Namakemono