the dance of the ink riddled fingers

The strength required for blatant weakness

Posted in epiphany tiffany, heroes of mine by enisea on 05/04/2010

I’ve grown up learning to shun weakness. My projections of life have illuminated my strengths and focused on trying to be rock solid, sane and afloat, or at least on the process of establishing such.  I’ve always thought that the people I know who slit their wrists (figuratively speaking) on facebook status updates and bear their raw sleeves (with heart bleeding from arm) were largely citizens of narcisism crying “look here, pay me attention, feel sorry of me, I’m an attention whore”. 

The demographic my father came from was the harshness of reality that inferred “don’t blame anyone else – it’s your own fault” although the contrast made his words of encouragement like nuggets of pure gold.  I think growing up in poverty has that effect on you. If he and his siblings broke that cycle of poverty so that although they grew up knowing it, their children never did, it would almost justify that insistence that: as long as you put in the hard yards, you’ll climb out of your “situation” and it’s your fault if you don’t…because you could have.  (I don’t mean to paint my father as a harsh man; he smiles, he laughs, he’s reared my sister and I to where we are now and has definitely loved and continues to love us, in more subtle and abstract ways than Dr. Phil might advise). My mother (as true the stereotype claims) is much more sensitive and nurturing to the emotional and invisible needs of her children. But even so, my sister and I grew up reasonably separate to both of them. We kept our teenage years as much to ourselves and from each other as possible and hardly believed in outside help.  I don’t fall apart in front of people usually – there are exceptions when my castle has crumbled much to my despair – I usually don’t. I won’t put an ad up for assistance.  Because I’m a strong Christian girl/woman who knows what she wants in life, knows what she needs to get there and has God…right?

So when I saw this I think part of my resistence crumbled. When I saw this, I might have cried – if a handful of tears is called crying. This is heartbreak.  This is my friend. This is honesty. This is my heartbroken friend being as honest as I could have ever imagined.

There raged a battle in my mind. Somehow this “hopelessness” was strong enough to dismiss pride and tell his world “I’m not OK. I’m not doing well. I’m a loser in a crap place”.  And I think my dams of stubborn silence sighed relief as it allowed collapse. But what warmed my heart immediately afterward was the response. Person after person of emerging friend spoke up – laid brick after brick of encouragement. He was attended to immediately by the church he had attended in Japan.  His family and friends in Melbourne consoled him and reminded him of his strengths. Somehow, this video was his solution, or part of.  I’ve been trying to tell myself that my friends, no matter how intimate, cannot read my mind. Yet I can’t seem to pick up the phone and dial a lifeline, phone a friend.

I haven’t said anything to him yet. I don’t know how or what to. I’m really terrible at understanding people and speaking to him might make me cry. I read a comment following the video which read: “mmm… it’s funny, i met a guy who’d come down from England and felt exactly the same way about his life down here in Melbourne… The question i ask myself is, “what is the difference between loneliness and solitude”…”.

It made me both sad and laugh…because it sounded like something insensitive that I would say. Tough love, child. Tough love.

I’m trying to be strong enough to admit weakness. This is step one.

ps: Mikee, you’re amazing and I love you.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: