Up until the last few years, I had rejected the idea of allowing myself to be vulnerable, if even on a subconscious and cellular level.
From a young age, I had managed to push down any vulnerability or sensitivity I had in me for my own psychic survival. Looking back I realize that I suffered from some deep emotional wounds, wounds that I wouldn’t or couldn’t acknowledge. Was it because I was strong? Was it because I was stubborn? Perhaps I was both. The truth was, I no longer knew. Somewhere along the road to survival, the difference between the two had begun to blur.
I refused to be hurt. I refused it with such a vengeance; I probably hurt myself more in the process. I spent what felt like an eternity building emotional brick walls in hopes that they would protect my heart. Yes, I had it all figured out. Through the cunning and creative placement of walls, I would never have to feel pain again. Absence of pain equaled happiness.
