Perhaps it’s something you discover with age. Perhaps it’s something we all find out in our own time. Perhaps it’s something some never discover.
We are creatures of habit. We are creatures guided by an instinctual goal of self-preservation. While disappointment becomes a fact of life early on, the acceptance of personal weakness is (for most) a bitter pill to swallow. It’s so much easier to pretend we all go through life with a perpetual suit of armor–a shell to protect our ever so delicate skin.
What one’s personal weakness is can be varied and cut a wide swath across many levels. Be they weaknesses of flesh, tears, blood, vice, et.al.–we all have them. But for too many, acknowledging that weakness–and perhaps learning to embrace it–is an exercise of uncomfortable self-examination.
Recently, I told someone that no matter how well he wore his suit of armor–there were always areas of vulnerability. No matter how well-intentioned and carefully constructed that breastplate you wear is, there are always chinks waiting to betray you at the most inopportune moments. The messy business–flesh, blood, tears, heart–is always waiting for the smallest fissure to leak out onto the floor and remind you. Remind you that no matter how many walls or suits you build, the vulnerability is always lurking.
It is when you are frayed–nerves exposed, heart squeezed, flesh ripped–you need to stand in front of a mirror (whether it be literal or figurative). The weakness does not betray you. It is part and parcel of the man in the mirror. In the end, we all face slings and arrows. We all bare our soul to those we trust. Sometimes, that trust is misplaced and the consequences are indeed messy.
It is my contention that the “mess” is what makes us strong. Dealing with the aftermath is the true test of character and infailability. Dry the tears. Wipe up the blood. Never regret the weakness. Never hide the weakness. It is. Just like you.
The armor is a myth. My arms around your chest are strong. My shoulder where your tears fall is steady. My kiss on your wounds are bandages. You don’t have to be a tin man for me. This flawed man will always understand.
For I am weak…and I’m okay with that….
