Fragility and Resilience
For most of my life, I’ve been emotionally fragile. A passionate and deeply caring nature makes me vulnerable, while a profound lack of confidence and a terrible self image have in the past made me “delicate.” I am smart enough to have realized quite early that my insecurity and poor self esteem weren’t grounded in “reality” (whatever that is), but my emotional state was not amenable to “reason.”
Because I had low confidence, a negative, unrealistic self image, major insecurity, and poor self esteem, I was deeply wounded whenever things didn’t go the way I thought they should, especially in romantic relationships (the aspect of my character still most powerfully affected by insecurity). When a relationship didn’t manifest the way I thought it should, or when a relationship ended, I took it personally, as confirmation of the serious flaws I saw in myself. I perhaps-understandably assumed that it was my vulnerability that made me so fragile, and I bent my efforts toward reducing that vulnerability.
Time and again I swore that I was “done with relationships, done with women, done with vulnerability, done,” only to find months later that the barriers I’d erected so painstakingly accomplished nothing except to give me a false sense of security; come what may, I would fall in love again, and the cycle would repeat. And the story I told myself was that my vulnerability was the problem; that if only I could erect sturdier, more impenetrable barriers, I would finally be “safe.” I invested enormous effort in raising walls around my sensitive heart, and the world could see those walls—there’s a reason some have judged me aloof or arrogant—but my walls never protected me; love would fly over or tunnel under or seep through. I could no more help being vulnerable than I could help being left-handed.
In retrospect, I realize that it was never vulnerability that made me fragile; on the contrary, that vulnerability may be my greatest strength. No, it was the insecurity, the lack of confidence in my worth as a person (and as a romantic partner) that made me fragile. As I’ve begun to be more secure in myself, more confident of my (infinite!) worth and worthiness, I’ve handled the nicks and scrapes—inevitable when one is open and vulnerable—with much greater equanimity. No longer do insecurities and lack of confidence magnify them out of all proportion; rather, I see them as what they are—inevitable consequences of living with my heart exposed.
For me, then, resilience is the product not of traditional Western models of masculine strength—every time I tried to emulate those models, I found myself more fragile, rather than less—rather, resilience has come (very recently) as I finally love myself, accept myself, value and treasure myself, believe in my objective and relative worth.
I am good. I am worthy. I am awesome! Furthermore, I am respected, I am appreciated, I am loved. Knowing these to be true, not just in my head but in my very marrow, gives me confidence and security which in turn give me resilience. No longer am I devastated when someone doesn’t see things my way, doesn’t understand my choices or practice, doesn’t feel about me the way I wish she would. I may be (am!) disappointed when things don’ go my way, but disappointment is a long way from devastation. And I am confident that because I am happy in myself, the relationships I long for will manifest.
It seems to me, then, that the “recipe” for emotional resilience begins with self love, from which rise security and confidence—faith, if you will—which allow me to see disappointments as ephemeral rather than eternal and to believe that the opinions and choices of others, even when those opinions and decisions are in regard to me, are not ultimately about me! but rather about those others.
Resilience is awesome!
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