Sometimes We Freeze

Sometimes we wish we could say something to someone, yet we don’t. It’s not because it’s better left unsaid, or because the world might explode if we betray our thoughts.

No.

It’s because we can’t. Simply that.

We’re scared to death. Because, well, who knows? Maybe it is better left unsaid? Maybe the world could explode?

I mean, Gabriel Sachs has never done it before. Maybe this time, as opposed to every other time someone did it, the world might actually blow up?

I never told her I loved her when I wanted to. Never put my foot down when I needed to. Never told that joke, made that remark, gave that compliment. And I never will.

That set of words in that context can never be said anymore. No redos. Plenty of regret. So many opportunities to make a connection, to stick — lost.

Just like that. Gone.

Everything is ephemeral.

…fleeting. Just like that.

And it sucks. I just wish everything could be okay with me.

I’ve lived my entire childhood as a response to something. I’d cry in response to my mommy going away for the day, I’d go to school in response to all the reprimands I got when I didn’t.

I bet you can relate. It’s impossible to be in control from day one. But now’s the time where we must seize power.

But what is the ultimate power? Is it being liked by everyone? Being famous? Rich? Smart? Successful? Quoted?

That all sounds great. But what’s the absolute ultimate form of power?

Control? Women? Family?

Well, in afterthought, the answer seems rather counter-intuitive: vulnerability.

I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word vulnerability, a bloody picture comes to mind. Nobody wants to bleed. Nobody wants to get hurt. That’s never good, right?

Well, that sounds right. But what if it’s inevitable? What if we know we’re going to get hurt?

I mean, that’s why I joined martial arts in the third grade. Ironically enough, I’ve gotten hurt way more learning how to defend myself in the middle of a dojo than in a crowd full of trigger-happy drunks.

At face value, it all seemed counterproductive — to get hurt to avoid getting hurt. But every next time I got punched in the stomach, kicked in the knee, jabbed in the face, it hurt a little less (albeit getting kicked in the groin never gets any better).

That feeling of confidence, knowing that you can stand your ground through confrontation, is, for lack of better phrasing, incredibly liberating. Knowing I can remain intact in the face of antagonism gives me a freedom to be and see without fear.

Vulnerability is the ultimate power. The ability to be one’s true self regardless of how others may respond — is the ultimate power.

Because the more we get hurt, the more we learn how it feels to step on some toes and be a little controversial, the less painful it becomes to be our unabashed self.

“A great part of courage is the courage of having done the thing before.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Those punches in the stomach will never stop hurting. But after ten years of practice, I don’t mind at all. After ten years, I’ve realized that the pain doesn’t mean anything. It’s the fear that was there that had stopped me.

And that shift, that realization that fear is more painful than pain itself makes all the difference. You’ll eventually feel true freedom, and everything else will fall into place.

Everything is ephemeral. Pain is ephemeral. Never forget this.

So say that joke, ask her out, share that Medium post. People might not laugh, she might say no, and nobody may read it, but at least it is an authentic response to your honest action.

And some day, someone will laugh, someone will say yes, and someone will love your post. And that feeling will be the best feeling in the world — knowing that all the pain paid off — and it will pay off.

Stop reacting, and start acting.