Every insult you want to hurl at me to make me feel less-than, I have launched at myself. All of the accusations you want to cover me in, I have already dressed myself in, selectively and intentionally. Each and every condemnation you want to wrap around me, I have already bound myself in—with barbed-wire. You couldn’t possibly hurt me more than I have hurt myself. All the sins you think you can tally up against me, I can quadruple and shame myself for.
Yet, you persist. You want to break me? Too late, I am already broken. I lay in pieces, night-after-night and each morning, I pull out my Elmer’s and glue myself back together. And no matter how many times I do that, I still end up in pieces again by night’s end.
But I know why you do it. It’s the same reason I do it, not only to myself, but to others. Because in our pain, we project. In our hurt, we want others to hurt with us. If I bleed, I am going to make everyone else around me bleed. Hurt people hurt people. It’s a tale as old as time.
I am never going to be who you want me to be.
I can’t possible cater to that many people. Rarely can I cater to myself and be who I want to be.
You think you’re disappointed in me? I disappoint myself daily. I mess up. I make mistakes. I error countless times. I do the wrong thing. I say the wrong things. I write the wrong things.
I do the best I can with what I have.
For you, that may not always be enough. I have seen that. You have greater expectations for me than I do for myself. Of course I can do better. Of course I can change my mind.
I expect criticism. It’s the one expectation I have refused to let go of. I am a writer. I put my thoughts on paper; I click on a keyboard and let my thoughts flow through to my fingertips and I empty out what is dancing about in my head. Many times, the dance moves are not properly choreographed.
I am also human. I do human things like defend my position. I defend my work. I defend my beliefs. But I know I am not the only one. We all do this. We all defend our beliefs and sometimes our beliefs may cause others to stumble.
We all fumble. We all drop the ball. We all miss the mark.
I hear you. You were offended, insulted, and ashamed of my words. And no matter what my intention was, the impact it left on you was all that was considered. I can relate to that. Such is the same for me. Despite our best intentions, we falter.
I can rip my shirt off, turn my back to you, and allow you to deliver to me the lashings you think I deserve. But you’ll only see the scars of the lashings I have given to myself. You couldn’t possibly wound me any greater than I have wounded myself.
I am indeed broken. My life, my thoughts, my emotions are all sitting in front of me in pieces. If you want to break those pieces up into smaller pieces, by all means, have at it. But I still have my glue.