Vulnerable
IV.I.II
VULNERABLE
To be happy, to be really happy, means being able to be hopeful. And hope? Not a big friend of mine. I think Gus was right here. The world’s not really a wish-granting factory, after all. Earlier in my life, I ditched hope and dreams for goals and actions. And I was a much better person for it. In every single way. Or so I used to think.
My new frame of mind allowed me to rethink everything I thought I knew. The things I cherished – love, adventure, wisdom – were they still applicable to this new me? Medicine, coffee, Grey’s Anatomy – my three favourite things – and everything else that made me, me. Now that I had seemingly found the key to happiness, how did my old life fit in with this new one? Would I have to ditch everything and start afresh? And what about the people around me? Having gone through a similar awakening a few years before, I was kinda used to the idea of rehauling and revamping my entire life, so I embraced this new change with open arms.
I went back to re-explore all my relationships – my friends, my family, my ex. I realised very few people knew who I was. I used to write down every single thought in my journal. Everything – from my fears and darkness to my joys and light. That’s how I processed everything. I had never let anybody else in because I could do it all on my own. And I never had to change because it worked. I had always been my own best friend, my own ‘person’ as it were – the only one I could always count on. As much as I used to think that was a strength, I came to the realisation that being able to be vulnerable with the people you love is just as important. I used to think sharing my burdens was a weakness, as if it meant I wasn’t capable of dealing with my problems on my own, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I realised that was the case because I had never allowed myself to feel happy before then. To be happy is to be vulnerable. If you’re permanently miserable, nothing can ever make you feel worse. If you’re blissful? Anything can threaten that. So why let it? If you have no expectations in the first place, how can things go wrong? And that’s when everything started to make a little more sense. Everything I thought I knew had suddenly started to shift.
That’s when I realised I had never loved anybody fully. I always had one foot on the ground. My relationship with Pedro could never have worked out. It wasn’t freedom I wanted back then – it was that I was too scared – and that’s why I never really let him in. I was subconsciously trying to protect myself, and so I sabotaged everything.
During our relationship, I had many doubts I never talked to him about. Like the fact that this was all new to me and that I felt like I was missing out on my own journey of self-discovery as a bisexual guy. Or the fact that he had mentioned wanting to have kids in the near future — something I had never even considered. There was also the whole integration thing. During the few months we spent together, it had never even occurred to me to introduce him to my friends or family. To be completely fair, I had met his family — under the false pretense that I was his friend. If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is.
The fact that I couldn’t bring any of these things up with him meant something was wrong. No matter how much I loved him, I was always a bit detached – my guilt and confusion over these doubts keeping me from being all in. Maybe, just maybe, these were things we would’ve eventually figured out somewhere down the line. But at that point, I was too emotionally unintelligent to understand them – let alone communicate them.
The minute I came to this conclusion, I sent him a reaaally long text. A whole essay. A tome, if you will. I told him all about my recent epiphany. I asked him how it had felt to be with someone like me – emotionally stunted and closed off. I apologised for shutting him out. He told me it was all in the past – that he knew that no matter how many times he could have pointed out the same things I had just figured out, it would have been useless. He knew I had to go through it myself. Plus, there was also the whole ‘long distance’ thing, which didn’t quite help our situation. Cue Katy Perry bursting into my room belting out The One That Got Away.
Having settled that, I sat down to reassess my situation once more. Despite all my emotional lacunae, I still gave myself credit for a few things I had done right. Like, for example, my friendship with Momma Bear. I confided in her as much as I did in my journal – be it about my dying father, my relationship with Pedro, or anything else that would cause anyone to go haywire. Also, I was always there for my friends whenever they needed advice or a shoulder to cry on – or at least I tried to be.
That said, I’d have to do better – for one simple reason. Because if push comes to shove, people are better than no people. As proud and stoic as I might be, I don’t wanna be alone. People are better than no people.