The Walls Come Down

If I had had the tools as a young person I would be two steps ahead in this game of living a vulnerable life. If I had things to do over again, it would be one of my main focuses in living day to day, weathering the setbacks in life and not building up walls to prevent feeling hurt and sorrow. By the time I reached 50, the brick wall I had built around me reached well past the top of my head. 

I remember the day when my dad walked out the door, with me crying and begging him to stay. I'm pretty sure I had already got a good start on my mini fortress but that event raised the wall to a new level. There were many other events that added layers; normal everyday life events that I did not have the tools to deal with. The cruelness of teenage boys, the sudden life of poverty that was to be ours for a number of years after my father left and just the fact that I was just over sensitive. 

I learned to endure by trying to control my universe. Little did I know that I was not in control of anything, that the force I wielded was imagined. Life went on around me and I scrambled to make it all fit in a box until the day when it nothing fit anywhere.

I am grateful for that day. It came when it was suppose to. It happened and I had nothing to do with it. In the rubble I was left with a choice, rebuild that shitty wall or move in a different direction. Unfortunately, when the wall came down there were remnants. It’s now my job to remove the ruins brick by brick. Easier said than done but I've got my hammer and chisel, I've got some tools now. 

I see the beauty; the world is no longer black and white, good or bad, right or wrong. I see that in the wreckage, in this mess we call life, there is much, so much, to be grateful for.