That's the culprit. Or so one thinks. Well, if that one allows it to be the case that is. Okay, okay, I'm that one. I'm the very one who feared vulnerability to be the enemy.
Webster's dictionary defines being vulnerable, in adjective form, as being capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt. Used as a noun it means to be exposed.
That, my dear, has been my fear.
This is what it all boils down to. Me having to expose my feelings and willing myself to become hurt all for the process of love. Confusing to say the least, but I figure it makes sense. The love we all desire in one form or another comes with the price tag stating we are volunteering our hearts to become bruised. Right? That's the road to love. Am I right??
And there is no way around it.
Pain is inevitable in this lifetime and in this world we live in today. What behooved me for years was not having the understanding as to why love had to take part in such pain. Why did the very thing that could bring us complete joy be the very thing that sent us into a tailspin of emotional turmoil?
So I ran.
I didn't see the need to subject myself to this self-inflicted deceit when others were doing so all around me. Why give more tears than are needed? Why take up space where so many others wanted to be? Besides I had been there and the scar tissue was an overwhelming reminder of how I had trusted the process once before.
Being vulnerable meant I would be placing my mind, body and soul into the hands of the unknown. It meant trusting another with a blindfold and hoping they hit the apple with the bow and arrow instead of my heart. An iffy situation if you ask me.
But everyone wants love. And if not, we definitely need it. I need it.
So I had to pick my battle.
Do I stay in my cocoon of safety, or do I embark on what I know will bring me uneasiness? Do I give up after never really giving it a try? Do I allow my fear of a maybe hurt, run away the possibility of a maybe happily ever after.
I fought vulnerability.
From Keshia...with love.