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Resiliency is an important strength taught by predecessors to be principal for a successful future, however, a mastery of this skill threatens one’s ability to relish in the ambivalence of life.
Quickly adapting to change, compartmentalizing misfortune and rationalizing emotions are essential in one’s work life balance.
But when instilled into daily life, one becomes blind to their instinct, forcing them to choose logic over feeling.
To be the individual who conquered disparity is valued more than to be the individual who survived their way out of despondency, and I am a product of this precarious mentality.
I have been told my resiliency meets no boundary, strength runs through my veins and my heart was built tough. It was no easy journey becoming this way, and I believe it turned me into a cold-hearted individual.
My mother and father divorced before I could even formulate a memory of them together. My father suffered from alcoholism and my mother was too stubborn to ever care.
Before I could tie my shoes, they both remarried.
By the age of four, I had a stepmother and half-brother, a stepdad and two stepsisters. I added two more broken families to the two I already had. To spare all the details, we blended as best we could, and I traveled around a lot in my youth.
My mother started me in therapy at five because she felt it was best after all I had gone through at my age. While I agree with her decision and appreciate her dedication to care for me, this began an over 20-year journey of battling who I was and what I wanted.
I mastered how to shape-shift and morph for different people and situations by seven because of the five varying parents I had taking care of me throughout each week.
Then I’d go to see a random professional for an hour who told me to trust telling them anything, even though I’d be sat outside their office afterwards while they had a short chat with my mother.
Growing up is not an easy task for anyone, but pair it with another divorce shortly after my brother was born and stepmom who didn’t seem to care, fathers who couldn’t decide which one should be the “real” dad and a mother who is terrified of letting her “only child” go outside, and you’ve probably got a recipe for disaster.
I’m not explaining this for sympathy or as a lesson to future parents, it’s to prove that what you see isn’t what you know. Flexibility, resiliency or durability, it doesn’t matter what you call it, too much compartmentalizing and anyone is bound to break.
I look capable, and I am. However, I’ve battled drug addiction, an over 10-year eating disorder and suffered from a plethora of abuse from people who love me.
Everyone deals with their own form of suffering, but some of us learn to suppress and continue rather than let the feelings out because it’s deemed the proficient way of handling emotion.
Proficient in the moment?
Sure, but I still haven’t dealt with my childhood best friend’s suicide, and that was ten years ago.
The other day, I went to the lake and listened to the screams of a family as everyone surrounded the waterbed to watch as five men dove repeatedly to find an individual who drowned.
In the moment, my adrenaline pumped as I watched everything out of my control manifest. After the police showed up, I finished my hike to leave without a word said. Then, I woke up Monday morning to begin the day as if nothing had happened, and I stopped myself.
Why? Why did I not allow myself to feel anything, was it simply because I didn’t know the person? That seems like a pretty cheap excuse.
So, instead of seizing Monday like it was any other day, I decided to feel.
When I say I’ve had a rough few months, it doesn’t begin to describe what has actually happened to me, and I allowed myself to feel all of it.
Every conflicting emotion, betrayal, love, anger, pride, failure, excitement and frustration, it all came out at once.
How do I feel today? Much better than I would have if I chose to just continue moving forward.
Resilience and strength take on many forms, and suppressing emotions isn’t the only way.