I'm Here

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is pretty much a load of bullshit. (Give me a break, I usually keep things G rated. Just call me "Disney hipster princess" why don't you... I do prefer Thor though.) 

I don't know the history of this particular nugget people love to share... I don't know the how or the why of it, but what I do know is that it is false. Entirely untrue. It is also probably one of the worst pieces of "advice" offered when someone is going through a particular trying time in their life, whether it's recovering from a relationship ending overnight with an arrest or the realization that the other person simply no longer cares enough to make it work. 

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger... if you're referring to the workout I did this morning. I thought, honestly, that I was going to die about halfway in (make that a quarter of the way in), and I'm sure certain muscles of mine will be a little bit better prepared for the next round. Ladies and gentlemen, tickets for the gun show will be available never.

To many people, I'm a smile, a laugh, a joke, a cheerleader, cute, playful, charming, welcoming, and a whole host of other things that range from patronizing to complimentary to true. I will admit I use this image of myself as both a way of viewing the world and as an armor for protection. 

What most people don't know and what I don't share is that I've gone through quite a lot of rather horrible events thus far. To be honest, I think there is only one person who is aware of the extent of it all and she's named after a warthog in a Disney movie because we had strange adults in our past lives. Yes, I realize that it's hypocritical to share this with you, the stranger reading my blog, and you, the familiar face I hope is reading this as well. 

Time and time again, people told me that every obstacle would make me better prepared for the next one. Every life ended, every trust betrayed, every bit of abuse, every failure, and every disappointment is supposed to somehow make me bionic. 

Well, I'm calling bullshit. What doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger... it just makes you "you." It alters your sense of self. It changes your life path. It becomes a part of your history, your present, and your future. 

What doesn't kill you... can make you stronger, but it can also make you smarter, it can also ground you. And, it can also bring you to your knees. I don't know if you've ever had a sink or swim moment, I really hope that you haven't. I had mine this past May, in a spring full of white hot pain. What didn't kill me brought me to my knees, literally at one point when merely dragging my body up from the cold, hard sidewalk of Kelton Ave felt like a feat I would never be able to accomplish. I reached my moment and for a while thought about what it would be like to just... sink. To descend to the bottom where the numbness whispered promises to take my pain away. 

But, in the moments of the final decision I saw a hand reach out. In fact I saw several, and I made a decision that if I was going to stand again I was going to dance. I was going to twirl, to pirouette, to close my eyes, and to lose myself in the music of life. I was going to appreciate the notes and the rhythms and the beats for what they were, no more no less. Because life is literally too short and too fucking fragile. (Whoops, I did it again.) I wholeheartedly believe that everything has led me to this moment with you and my "self." 

It's the reason why I now try to take risks (even though I'm writing this here because I lack the courage to say it aloud and even though I am too afraid to ask for more while my intestines feel like they've temporarily decided to dance the conga), it's the reason why I make it a point to explicitly tell people why I love them and how appreciative I am to have them in my life. It's the reason why I smile when it rains, and it's also the reason why I allow myself to feel sorrow and anger and hurt and disappointment. It's all a part of the game, baby, and I'm not here to win. I'm here to play. 

And I'm here to reach out my hand, to pull you up with me when you're ready to dance, whether you're on your knees or just simply taking a moment to kneel and breathe. I've been learning how to salsa, and it's not nearly as fun when you don't have a partner. (I'm also decent at the cabbage patch and can shopping cart like nobody's business.)