How is it that after all this time my heart can still feel fragile as glass, that reading a few words can weaken me so much? My mother used to tell me, shortly before she died, "I don't worry about you. You are strong. After all you have been through, you are strong." I thought that she was right. And I was strong. My old therapist once said "most people who have gone through a life like yours would be in very bad shape." He was trying to bolster my confidence, give me more strength. But maybe the cumulative effect of all that exertion has depleted me. I didn't think of the future the way I do now. I didn't know how the things you thought would not threaten my heart would wreak such damage. I didn't know that "that which does not kill you makes you stronger" is not always true. Or maybe I don't really know what strength is.
About Me
- madabandon
- Brooklyn, New York, United States
- a musician/artist living in brooklyn with two l gray cats and an super-cute dog, writing about the trivial and the not-so-trivial, often sleep-deprived and benignly neurotic.
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