Sometimes I just want to complain. I want to ball up my fist and wave it at the sky, shed some tears and cry out, “Why me…” Why does life have to be so hard sometimes? In 53 years, I am still no closer to answering that question. What I have received is a lot of experiences. My knees are a little bruised, and my eyes have welled up with too many tears to count. At my lowest, I have felt defeated, angry, hurt, scared and just plain beat down.
These times are not easy for me. I consider myself a “strong “person. I am someone who can weather any storm. But there are those times when I am in pain, either in my heart or in my body when I just want to say…”Enough is Enough.” I want to yell out loud, at the top of my lungs…”It is not fair!” I should still have my parents. I should have a son who can take care of himself and his family. I should already be a world renowned writer that is helping to change the world. I should be 30 pounds lighter with enough money in the bank to pay off every bill, and enough free time so I can meditate longer.
“Why should I have to witness tragedies…Not just in my own life but in the world I live in?” There are earthquakes, floods and airplanes that disappear. There are wars that take the lives of innocent children. There are hate crimes and kids killing kids at school…on the playground and in the classroom. As a “world intercessor”, I cry for people I don’t know. I take a moment, and only a moment, to feel their pain. It is all I can bear. I cry for the lives lost in senseless murders that take away the dreams of young adults… kids who are just finding their place in the world. I cry when we go to war or when Mother Nature comes a calling and wipes out entire villages.
When I have had enough…I shake my fist in the air and spend what energy I have left explaining to God how unfair life is. I mourn for lost possibilities. I scream out in the privacy of my home all the hurt that I have bottled up inside. And when I can no longer complain, when I no longer have the strength to yell, or cry or stand…I fall into a heap in the floor, roll up in a little ball and ask God to help me. Help me to see life like He sees it. Help me to be grateful for the little things. Let me find joy in everyday I get to live on this earth. I want to be happy. I am happy.
Part of me thinks that my happiness comes from having moments like I just explained. Not being the person who holds it all together and “appears” to be doing well under the circumstances. I am becoming the person who says, “I need help.” I understand the power of vulnerability…raw vulnerability. I can raise a hand and say I can’t take anymore. I can be in a discussion and say, “that hurt my feelings”. The more honest I become with myself, the more honest I get to be with the world.
So what if my vulnerability sounds like complaining. That sentence is even hard to write. I get to be honest …authentic about what is happening in my life. I think I can grow faster, let go easier if I just admit the stuff that is happening in my head...and my heart. It certainly does not mean that I will stop being who I am by caring for others and making things happen. It just means that when the time calls for it, I can complain, hear the words out loud, feel like a victim, and feel sorry for myself. Actually according to Webster’s, Complain means “to express dissatisfaction, pain etc.” Who’s to say, maybe my strength comes from my ability to be honest with how hard life can be. Maybe…just maybe…my vulnerability is a tool that when wielded can make sense of a world that doesn’t make sense.