Our rocks…

IMG_5396As I walked up that beaten road today, I noticed how the tar had been stripped back and nothing but the bare rocks remained. I noticed the beauty of the foundation that the world tried to cover with a sleek black armor. With each step I felt a desire to feel those rocks beneath my feet. To feel the type of freedom that comes when the sleek black armor of who the world says you are is worn down and you truly are the uneven and jagged, yet perfect reality of who you were meant to be.

We spend a lot of our lives trying to wear that sleek black armor, to distract people from the messy foundation beneath, but the beauty of life is what lies beneath. We want to be smooth and efficient and easy. We want to show the world that we are strong and beautiful, but in this we lose the beauty of having to rely on one another. We lose the strength that comes from solidarity in our human desire for vulnerability. We lose the truth that love always wins.

For many years, the world bought my sleek black armor; my armor from the mess I left behind. The world was jealous of my armor, while I struggled with the weight of how many layers I needed to hide the jaggedness of the rocks below. And then four years ago today, that armor got washed away. In one phone call, I was nothing but rocks. And in that instance I never felt more whole, yet the world told me to run and pick up my armor again. Yet in those days of complete chaos, I felt honest and beautiful, I felt true and understood. But the world taught me the danger of being nothing but exposed rocks so I layered that armor back on. Only this time, I couldn’t cover it all. And the jagged rocks began to peak through without choice. And as they did, I heard her whisper, “You can’t lose me. I don’t love you for the armor, I love you for the rocks.”

Although its scary to let go of the armor, I am fighting for my rocks. I am fighting for the tears that show the world how much I long for her; how much I miss her. I am fighting to be authentic with my vulnerability, how damaged and hopeful I feel. The funny thing about our rocks is that they are no less powerful than our armor; they are actually the place where power lies.

So I’m not ashamed to throw down my armor tonight and admit that I might cry myself to sleep as I remember what this day felt like 4 years ago. I’m not ashamed because I wish someone would have told her that her rocks were beautiful and powerful too. That imperfection, doesn’t mean unlovable. That being not okay, is perfectly okay.

But I guess tonight, I’ll settle for seeing her in the stars.


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