You really never know how sad a person is. Our exposed selves only account for highlights of our passions and moments in time when we forget how hard getting out of bed was. I understand that it would be weird to share every moment we cry and every thought that chips at our emotional/mental health but how do we find the balance? Is there in fact a balance? A place where we’re both vulnerable enough to expose our sadness and vulnerable enough to accept/expose the moments we feel a little less sad.
I have been thinking a lot about the strength that lies within vulnerability but I think this is the most I have ever struggled with being vulnerable. I’m currently completely terrified of exposure. Isolation is my comfort zone. It has been for as long as I can remember but now, I’m isolating myself from my loved ones. I think maybe their love might magnify the cracks in my soul. The cracks that now house my relentless pain and chaos.
Unworthy. Incapable. Insignificant. Incompetent. Undeserving. Underserving. They ring and form a ring in my head.
(give yourself a little time to work through your thoughts. I will do the same.)