IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE BLACK OR WHITE
It was a chilly Friday night, when I managed, with the extensive help of a friend, to finally pinpoint what had been wrong.
“What’s wrong?
— Nothing
— Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
I shook my head.
“Come on you can tell me how you feel!”
Needless to say, he had to ask the question a dozen more times before I uttered the words: “Meh! I feel Meh.”
He had seen me sitting there silent, jaded, with a look so empty it could fit the entire ocean. And some many more questions later, I started talking.
I had been trying for weeks, maybe months to put my finger on it. That one thing that stole my light, my life, my motivation and my excitement about pretty much everything…and then I realized that I simply forgot!
It suddenly hit me, that all the advice I give out to others, I never lived by not even once, for almost a year now. I lacked joy, I lacked pain, I lacked self-appreciation or the appreciation of anything for that matter.
I didn’t know what I wanted. I had been trying so hard to fill my life with things, but every time I put my head on the pillow, that void would back with all its darkness and self-wrecking thoughts.
I was building the career I always dreamed of, but it didn’t satisfy me.
I was doing the things I love, but they didn’t bring me joy.
I was heartbroken. But every time I wanted to cry, no tears came out.
I was leaving for work in a war-torn country in less than two months, and I made the decision without flinching. Maybe I believed that it could crack the shell I have been curled up in. Maybe, just maybe, witnessing the atrocities of war would make me feel something again, would make me cry or bring me back to my usual sensitive self.
I tried to go back in time to the exact period when I started being this way, my mind drifted into so many events and so many people who had crossed my life in the past year and one question came to mind. Am I not worth it?
Am I not worth what? I don’t understand, I always admired myself and what I’ve achieved so far. I am 25 years old, fully independent, having already accomplished so many of my goals, with much more to come. I was living by every single point of my philosophy of life — one about balance.
The truth was, I loved my life. I loved myself. And that is when another question came up. Then why am I so hard to love? Why am I not worth the try, worth the compromise, worth opening up to?
You are worth the try! Despite all your imperfections, you always are. It is not your fault you could not help everyone. Not all people can be healed with love and devotion. Not all people have the courage to open up again. The question is, do you really want to be one of those people? Who are so afraid to compromise they end up locking themselves up? I certainly knew that was out of the question for me.
I guess being so open to life, puts you at a greater risk of being hurt. I guess that loving people so much, believing in them, giving them a chance even when you know they’re damaged and they’re going to hurt you, will take its toll on you. You become so broken that when you look yourself in the mirror, all you see is scars, wrinkles and tired eyes that hide so many secrets. You forget who you are and you let yourself get carried away by the damage instead of leveraging it to become stronger.
But that’s bound to happen when you’re truly alive.
When you want to breathe the entire world in, the good will come with the bad. And it takes some time and maturity to learn that scars and wrinkles, laughs and cries, smiles and tears are a sign that you’ve truly lived. Wear them with pride and remember Rumi’s words: “You have to keep breaking your heart until it is open”.
If you have a similar story to tell, I would love to hear it and help if I possibly can. You can contact me on: Jaber.jennyfer@gmail.com, I would love to hear from you.
Photo Credit: Nicolas Tawk ©
