It took me a while to accept that my father wasn’t
invincible. He’s not perfect, he’s not flawless, and there are times when I
couldn’t depend on him.
It took me a while to accept my significant other isn’t
invincible. Isn’t as solid as I thought, isn’t as strong, and can never be my
ultimate protector like I’d hoped.
Today I realized another “invincible he” isn’t invincible
after all.
I don’t know why there’s a need for that. I’m not perfect. I
know I’m not; and despite what I feel, I know
there’s no purpose or need to be. So why did it take me so long to accept
each time I realized that these men aren’t as invincible as I’d hoped? Why is
there a need for them to be invincible?
I’d known that there are times that they needed me, and that’s
different. It’s different. Being invincible meant to me that they could do no
wrong, and that whatever help they needed from me wasn’t because of a flaw in
themselves; it had to be a flaw of the world.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair to them to have to live up to
these expectations of them. But if I didn’t have them, my “invincibles”, how do
I keep up the strength I need to be the person I am expected to be? People
think I’m reliable, that they don’t need to worry about me, that I will be OK
no matter what happens. That whatever tantrums I throw is temporary and will
soon shush itself. How I wish to be scared, to show these people that I too
break down and cry. But I don’t have the option of having a shoulder to cry on.
How I wish to show that I am not OK. That there are times when I need them to
look at me and say it’s safe to not be OK.
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