On Being Strong

What is it really like to be strong? I wish I knew. I wish I could tell you what it's like and how to accomplish it, but I can't. I'm a weak person. I'm dying on the inside and my life is falling to pieces all around me. All I can do is hold on.

It's all okay, though, because you don't have to be strong all the time. You don't have to keep your chin up when you feel like hell and you certainly don't have to let the light shine through even in the darkest of times. Sometimes we all need to cry, and as the song goes, there's beauty in the breakdown.

Last night for my Daily Dose of Drama, or as I call it, the most recent installment of my favorite show, MD3, my ex sent an email to me saying something along the lines of, "I won't bother you anymore. Good night and goodbye." Out of curiosity, for one thing, how would you interpret his intentions? Was I overreacting in calling him about 20 times and strapping on some shoes and heading out the door, fingers cocked to dial 911, with plans to run across town to find him lying dead on the floor?

I didn't make it down the first street before he finally called me back. As I sat there crying in the darkness on the side of a residential street, I realized what was more true than it ever was: I love you, Pete, and I want you to be okay. And I want that for myself, too.

If you read another article of mine entitled "In Defense of my Promiscuity" you may be aware of a boy named Jerry, who's particularly cute. Well today I don't want to call him Jerry. Today we'll call him Andrew. I went over to Andrew's house last night to hang out and distract myself from the impending sense of overwhelming doom. I broke down half-way through and had to spill my heart. I told Andrew I was sorry he was involved in my rebound sex. And as I sat with a particular large, ugly hickey on my neck, I realized I shouldn't be with anybody right now, because I don't know who the hell I am anymore.

So, my little ones, don't worry if you're not strong, because neither am I. You're allowed to cry and pitch a fit and hit the floor yelling "Why!?" at the top of your lungs. When you break-up, even if you're the dump-er and not the dump-ee, don't expect to be fine with it and get over them, because chances are you won't, no matter how hard you try. And all of this is okay, because everybody has somebody around them to help them through these things, and that person's name is Yourself.

Learn to rely on yourself and keep your strength through your own company, and you can make it through anything. But until then, don't worry too much about looking weak, because you are, and I am, and so are all those around you who criticize you. And that's okay. We're human.