I grew up in the city--the inner-city, actually--and have always considered myself a city chick. It's part of my identity. Like being female. Like being my mother's child or my son's mother.
Having grown up in the "'hood," as my son calls it with pride--though it really wasn't the "'hood" back then, but a friendly, warm, working-class family neighborhood-I learned early the benefits of a sassy mouth and a "don't mess with me" attitude. The mouth, I'm afraid, is ingrained in me. But the attitude is a bit of a protective device. Except, that is, when it comes to defending someone I love or something I believe strongly in. When it comes to my family and my loved ones, I'm no holds barred.
I've always been able to handle life, to roll with the punches. But otherwise, there's nothing tough about me--not tough in the city sense, anyway. I never "hardened" like some city girls did. I always had compassion, always a sadness, could always cry at the drop of a hat--just thinking about something sad or someone being hurt. No street smarts at all, both of my brothers told me. When you're 12, being ultra-sensitive can be endearing, I suppose. As you get older, it becomes a bit more of a liability.
Still, being vulernerable is one thing. Feeling vulnerable is another. It has taken years--I've come to terms with my vulnerability. Every loss has weakened me substantially--physically, spritually, emotionally--and the effect is cumulative. And the physical pain I've had in the past couple of years uses up any tiny reserve of strength I've built up.
Sometimes I feel so fragile. Sometimes I feel that I am going through life with my arms up in front of my face, trying to deflect the blows. Afraid that if I fall, I won't be able to get back up. And when I see those words in print, I think "Boo hoo hoo, poor poor pitiful me. What a wimp I am!" And that gives me a little more strength to fight another day.
I guess this is what it is to be an orphan. I should be used to it after nearly 14 years, but I'm not. My mental image of myself used to be of a strong-willed, spirited girl eager to learn, ready to go anywhere, meet anyone, do anything. Now it is of that little girl, curled up in a fetal position, holding her doll, crying for Gregory. And in my mind, I often hear the last part of the refrain from "Stoney End"--more poignant words have never been uttered: "Cradle me, Mama, cradle me again."
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5 comments:
I will send you blessings. In my experience pain does subside over time when I honor it.
i can very much relate to this one. i blog a lot about vulnerability. if i called myself a wimp that would make things worse, but i'm glad you have a way to strengthen yourself :) and i am working on getting to where i can say what i need to say "no holds barred" - good for you~ :)
i think vulnerability is good and important. it's sometimes necessary to learn to separate yourself from your feelings and have a shield from the world. but living too long like that and you can become detached, cold, and unmoved by anything or anyone. being vulnerable has it's drawbacks. but despite what people say, i think sometimes that there is more strength in being able to feel all your feelings. i don't see any wimps here :)
Hi there--thanks for visiting! I am going to spend some time on your blog...I like your style a lot.
If I didn't write this in such a stream-of-consciousness way, I would have made the important distinction between vulnerability and weakness. There is a major difference--so I suppose we're not wimps after all :-)
thanks, i like yours too :)
and yes, surely we're not wimps :)
Faith&Amp--Thanks for the kind thoughts :-)
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