The Vulnerable Male
There is this depiction of strong. What it’s supposed to mean. Somewhat invincible with earth-defying capacities, and a super-resilient way of taking on pain with quick recovery.
It’s just not that way.
Original Photo by Trey
Even in my peak, when a lot of people could look at me and admire the strength I physically emanate, it is derived more from weakness than feeling strong. As an empath, it’s not that I voluntarily make myself weak, but I take on the energy of those who feel broken and down, and turn that energy into a physical expression. It’s a will to keep people uplifted that comes from deep within my heart.
This is often enough to release the energy, but as of late it’s been difficult. We’re getting such an opportunity to confront a lot of our own hurt through isolation. Deep, dormant hurt! Things that haven’t been let got of quite yet. The things you say were heavy at the time, but will eventually be easier to offload later.
But, if you’re like me, that weight didn’t get lighter. In actuality it has become more dense.
What’s been coming up for me is a recognition of buried pain.
Sometimes it feels like generational pain that been handed down from DNA, and other times it is from a sense of personal experience and feeling lost.
The tough part about growing is the things that created the bonds you grew to be familiar with when you were younger are now broken, and yet, the desire to attain what your heart wants remains. For me, that brokenness wasn’t represented through peaceful release, but rather from emotional confusion and misunderstanding. I would typically just go along with this. Playfully pretending it would just turnout okay on it’s own and things would return to normal. Answers would come later, right?
Original Photo by Trey
Wrong.
I believe this to be a big struggle for women, but I also think it’s something men struggle with as well. We’re supposed to sound a certain way, and act with certain behaviors, in order to be seen a particular shape. And it feels a bit, well, confining.
It’s not that we, or I, cannot speak, but more so that when I am given that chance to voice myself, it’s often taken over by someone else. Or that, when I do, I feel guilty for what I have said and have this sense of remorse for honoring my own Truth. Typically from a “mental stickler”. A person who comes to mind as your version of a naysayer. Often, they’re people you’ve even let into your heart.
I don’t want that. I want my peace. I want my voice. I crave expression.
Original Photo by Trey
It’s true for us all in every way shape and form as long as you are human being. It’s not just the struggle that’s real, it’s also the sound. That is our resonance. It says that we’re all one, but not acting in harmony as such. It says ‘I feel this way also, in my own way, and that is similar to yours.’
As a man, here is what I want to say. I am sorry. I feel the same way as you. I see my wrongs and I see my rights. But truly, it’s not even about that. We have our contrasts, yet those are the things that seem to relate. I don’t know to whom, or for what, I am apologizing for, but I do know that it signifies a give. A plea for mercy. That’s the only thing that has allowed reconciliation in my life. The give is not out of submission or obedience, but from a place within me that is ready to rejoice.
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(She/Her)
The gal behind Held In The Heart. The Community Journal is a space for those who feel deeply to express freely. We explore all sorts of things here, from the real & raw healing stories & creative writing, to the funny & fleeting moments of everyday human life. I warmly welcome you and invite you to explore with us!