The strengths of weaknesses
The one thing everyone forgets is that we all have weak spots in our armour. We’re afraid to show our naked side and expose the one thing that makes us all human: Weaknesses. So, let me strip for you *cue gagging sounds*
I am a workaholic. I get little sleep, spend little time on myself, I am hardly home, and what the actual f*$k is a dating life? I have ingrained the idea that I am a saviour into so many of my obligations that I am afraid that leaving will delve my employers- who I have all put into a separate family in my head and heart- into chaos and I will leave them hanging. And then what will they think of me? I will become a failure of my own mental jailings. I have missed out on countless family gatherings, to which they all greet me with caution, because who knows anything about someone who doesn’t come around?
But I am dependable. My employers know that I will be there when they need me to, and they know that I can do my job without having my hand held. It is a sense of pride for me, knowing that I am good at my job(s). Plus, I mean, money is always great too *high five, woo!* I am creating lasting impressions on people and padding the absolute shit out of my resume. And one of the biggest parts is that I am making friends and connections. Corporate job making ungodly amounts of money, here I come!
I am nice to people who don’t deserve it. Unregretfully. I would spend my last dollar on someone who hasn’t eaten in days and leave my bank calling me every 3 hours, just because I HATE seeing other people suffer when I can do something about it. There are countless people who have a hand in my empty pocket, and I don’t hold it against any one of them. I will take time out of my limited sleep schedule to sit in a car and talk someone out of a bad situation or help pull them from the depths that something (and/or someone) has run them into. I let people bleed all over me, just to let them stand aside and watch me die. There have been nights where my steering wheel sees more tears than my friends, and that feels like weakness of a different calibre.
But people know that I am there for them. I prefer honesty (sometimes sugar coated a little bit. Whoops) and I tell people what they don’t want to hear. I am an accountable person and people are comfortable telling me things. There is more personal value in this than anything else, but gotta find the bright side, right?
I prefer strength over vulnerability. I can count on one hand the amount of times people have seen wetness in my eyes, yet my shoulder is a waterfall. I would rather hide the things that are twisting and pulling at me than to let anyone see past the shield that covers my face.
But I can handle situations calmly. In the event of something tragic or of high stress, I am the one who knows how to handle myself. I know how to hold in the panic that tries to bubble over and comfort those around me. I have been in charge of thousands of people at work, guiding my staff members into comforting the guests and keeping the reactions of the guests at bay.
I learn the hard way. You could tell me up and down that fire hurts, but until I stick my hand in the flames I will think that your cautions are just words. “Why do I do this to myself?” is a common phrase in my mind. Guiding, scolding, and scarring me.
But I do learn, and I do so best on my own. I need that mental trigger that tells me “don’t hit the breaks when you’re on ice because the last time you did that… *trigger flashback.*” My employers have never been too happy with the slow progression of learning, but I have risen to the top of my jobs very smoothly because of it.
This is not much of a weakness, as much as it is a confession: I am a depressive writer. I write bold and impressive things when my weaknesses have all lead a stampede on my mind.
But I use the feelings that sit behind my ribcage and pull apart that muscle that pumps blood around my body (it’s kind of a useful piece of meat, you should take care of it) and I channel them into my writing. I sit, naked, in front of my laptop and I bleed my pain to relieve the pressure in my veins.
I suggest you put your fingers on that keyboard and go, close your consciousness off, don’t reread your project, but take a deep breath and hide it away. Set a timer on your phone or add a note in your calendar and read it later. Either you turn your moment of weakness into a piece of art or you scrap it and move on. Rereading the things I write when I’m having a “moment” either helps guide my mind to a better place, or hypes my creative future.
Anyways, I guess the thing you should take most of out this is to embrace your weaknesses and turn them into something beneficial. Going through life with a thorn in your side does nothing but stain your mind.
Peace out Girlscout(s)
-Saving Private Courtney.