We have all heard the speeches. The clichés.
“This will only make you stronger.”
“You will grow so much from this experience.”
“Think of all the people you will be able to relate to from this experience.”
Any of that sound familiar? Both arms up over here.
At the age of eighteen I have experienced my fair share of hardships. They don’t seem to come with much of a break period and they come crashing all in one treacherous wave.
It is overwhelming and stressful. And yet something I have grown to deal with.
After loosing a parent so young I heard every single one in the book.
“He is in a better place.”
“Just think, all his pain is gone.”
“He is always with you in your heart.”
All true, and genuine attempts to make light of a dreadful situation. And yet, somehow, they all seem to make things worse.
Because, you see, I love that I am able to help people due to the fact that I can empathize when others may only be able to give their best sympathies..
There is power in being able to say to someone “I understand, I have been there.” “Me too.” Or even just, “That sucks.”
As apposed to the heartfelt, but rarely helpful. “Be grateful for what you have.”
It’s nice to know that I am making someone feel a little more comfortable in their dreadful time, knowing that they are not alone.
And yet at what cost?
My reminders to others that it is totally normal to sit and cry when it hits them that their parent isn’t there to see them off to their first day of high school is my reminder to myself that my dad isn’t here to see me off to my first day of college.
My encouragement to others that they can be self sufficient women in society without the man that is laying hands on them and pinning them to a bed every night is my reminder to myself that I left him when maybe he would have changed.
Please, know, I am fully aware of the premature growth I have experienced due to the events in my life.
But what if, just for one month.
I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to be mature. What if for one day I just want to be a normal eighteen year old girl.
Seems almost like a fathom of my imagination at this point.
Please know, I am not saying that I do not enjoy being able to help others. I thrive off of knowing that I was put on this earth to help others. But I can’t help but feel strongly that sometimes I just need someone to tell that it is normal to still him my dad everyday, even after eight year. Someone to tell that I am better off without the man that would hit me at my slightest mistake. Someone to lend me a shoulder and tell me that my tears are acceptable.
Maybe it’s time for the fighter to be fought for, the holder to be held and the lover to be loved. -Unknown
You see, sometimes we can have a heart of gold. A mind full of determination to help others, and being able to relate off of personal experience only opens the playing field that much more. But, sometimes, even the strongest of souls need someone to lean in and say “me too”.