Breaking Point

It’s getting there. I’m feeling like I’m on the edge. I’ve been there before, and every time I pull myself back without falling in. Then I come back stronger. But who knows, maybe this time I will fall in. It’s been so long since that has happened. Let me think…

I think the last time I went over that edge was back in 2004. It took me some time to get out of that rut. It was a time where few people knew, and many believed my facade. But then, I came back 10x stronger. It’s hard to describe exactly what happens every time I do go over that edge. I fall. I shatter. And then, when I’m put back together, somehow, I’m made of more than when I first broke in the first place. And, the particular weakness that caused me to tumble down in the first place is addressed thereby removing that particular vulnerability.

I’ve had other points in my life where I began to go over the edge, but circumstances in my life would not allow me to shatter. I had to be strong. I had to continue on. A mask would not suffice. And I don’t generally wear masks. For when I show genuine concern and care for another, it is because I love them. My problems just take a back seat. Sometimes though, I pull out the mask. It’s the times when I can no longer put it on the back burner for me to deal with alone. Unfortunately, a back log gets created form trying to do everything on one’s own.

So, I cry out. The question is: who will listen? Who will be there for me? Will you, dear reader, share with me?

The Hidden

This is a difficult post for me. One, because I really don’t ever talk about these things. Two, because I don’t really know how anyone could help. I’m not perfect. I struggle just like anybody else. I have my ups and downs. I have my times of strength and my times of weakness. I am just a man.

Most people see only the strong me. They may get to see little glimpses here and there of what’s going on underneath, but usually by the time they begin to notice it, I’ve already shored up all my defenses to that little crack in my armor, in my defense. And, then, the veneer of a strong, confident young man is back in place. 

The truth is I am one of the Hidden! I bottle everything up inside. I don’t want to burden others with what I go through. I would rather help them or make them better. Me? I can deal with it on my own, and usually, I do. When people ask me how I’m doing, I tell them, I’m fine! And that’s usually about as far as it goes. Inside, these days, I have been a tempest of emotion. I want to cry, but I can’t. I want to scream out, but I won’t. So much is trapped inside, and while I’m set on helping others, there’s no time left to help me. Which is how I prefer it anyway. I am one of the Hidden!

Being one of the Hidden isn’t so bad. And yet it is. One of these days, I may just very well crash. Who knows? I’ve been doing this for so long, I can’t honestly say when it will end. Or maybe I’ll get a reset button. That would be something. My fellow Hidden, I cry out to you. What do you do?