Strong and Fearless

Strength and fearlessness--
two of the most overrated human qualities I have encountered thus far. I've mentioned before how courage is a more desirable quality than fearlessness. Fear is meant to keep us safe. It can be healthy and helpful if managed wisely. I want to be courageous, not fearless. I want to have the ability to recognize, manage, and conquer my fear, and I'm getting there.

Then there's strength.
People encourage me often by telling me how strong I am. I appreciate what they are trying to say, but it is a lie.

I am not strong.

I tried to be, for a long time. I wanted to show everyone how strong I was, how tough I could be as I did this life. I wanted to be the one to whom others could look for inspiration and to succor their own strength. I had good intentions. But in my attempts to stay so constantly strong, to carry others, to never falter, I became my very weakest version of me. That kind of strong is not what I am or who I want to be. Strong is doing it all, all the time. Strong is carrying everything alone. Strong is not asking for help and hiding the pain behind plastic smiles and "I'm doing fine"s and becoming a martyr for the sake of superficial peace. I am not strong. I need help.

Every day, all day long, I need help. I need people to talk to me and distract me. I need people to listen to me and encourage me. I need people to hug me and cry with me and hold me and carry me. I need people to rescue me because I am not strong. I need to be allowed to be weak and fragile. I need to be allowed to be fractured and damaged and so, so tired. If I am not allowed those things, I will fall. I will fail. If I am forced to be strong, I will break. Perhaps I mean more hard when I'm talking about that version of strong. To be strong, to be hard and unbending, means to snap under pressure. Those that bend, sway, and adapt are those that thrive. Too often, we give ourselves the admonition to "stay strong." We applaud those who do it all alone, who are tough enough to stand on their own, who fight the good fight by themselves in the ring. It's heroic to us.

And so lonely.
But so strong.

I am not strong.

I am, however, determined.
I cannot, I will not give up.

What is more powerful: to not feel fear at all, or to rise up, face it, and conquer it?
What is more powerful: to take it all on, all the time, alone, or to show vulnerability, reach out, and let others bless your life, and in doing so bless theirs as well?

I know what people mean when they tell me I am strong. They see the power that lies in determination and courage. They see that in me, and I use that to try to see it in myself. But I don't want to be fearless. I don't want to be strong.

I want to be courageous, determined, and powerful in my vulnerability. I want to walk with my bloody head unbowed and conquer my fears as life rains its blows down upon me. I want to reach out and feel others along side me, conquering their fears as well, and share the power in their vulnerability in admitting that they also cannot always be--do not want to always be--strong.

I want to fly. I am determined to soar.
I will do it, too. Watch and see.