I really admire independence. It’s so…. sexy. Being able to do what you want, when you want, and how you want somehow exemplified the essence of being strong, able, and admirably unstoppable. Somewhere between the Jennifer Aniston age-defying mantra and Rihanna’s don’t-have-the-time-of-day-for-you attitude, there’s always something magnetic about a woman seeming to not need anybody.

But this is just simply not the case. Don’t get me wrong, personal independence is vital to living a healthy and self-fulfilled life. But nothing is truly an independent thought, act, or perspective. Whether it be parents, works of art, explorations, music, teachers, scientists, or really just people in general, all inspire a part in who we are today. Through all of these facets, humans, consciously or subconsciously, compile efforts and find a way of providing for each other using both universal and individual culture. Through nurturing physically, supporting emotionally, publishing works of music, art, and knowledge, and so much more, the human experience molds us from birth to death.

This realization of the collectiveness of human culture plays into the most important and satisfying part of my life that I’ve recently come to cherish. But first, I preface with this… I was in a time of my life that I needed my people. I’d put it in fancier phrasing, but at its core, in all honesty… I needed my people. I needed help. However, my inner need for self sufficiency muted me and instead of lowering my pride, I fed my ego with the instant gratification of independence. I would never ask for encouragement… Forget about reaching out. Even when people offered, I would “strongly” declare that I’m fiiiiiiine and that I was totally capable on my own. Now side note, yes I probably was capable of doing it on my own. And yes, I most likely could have suffered through and finished the job. But that’s not the point!! It didn’t matter how strong I was, the choice to refuse support ultimately isolated me with my burdens. And as those burdens grew, my unspoken anxieties and the inability to express the weight of my own worry grew with it. I was stuck. I was drowning in silence and couldn’t figure out why. But what I came to realize is that being needy and being in need are two very different things. Asking for help and being helpless are not the same. Being independent and being isolated don’t have to go hand in hand. And silently suffering is more cowardly than admitting you need help. Strength isn’t having the capability to do everything on your own. Strength means having the capacity to look inside yourself and recognize your boundaries. It’s pushing your limits, but never disregarding them. Strength is looking challenges dead in the eye and figuring out how to defeat them using the help of people around you.

Once I opened up and allowed for an environment of encouragement, I learned that in my neediest of times, my village and I would suffer through together. And that sucked. I felt like a burden to those that I loved most.

However, that vulnerability created the part of my life that I referenced earlier to being the most satisfying and uplifting facet I have. And that is that I finally have somebody to celebrate with.

Roughing it alone was temporarily satisfying because I knew I wasn’t a bother. Nonetheless, at the end of all of the struggle when I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, I’d experience that victory alone. I didn’t know the kind of community I was missing out on until I allowed myself to be vulnerable enough to have expressed burdens. Expressing my worries allowed me to have people in my corner, to have people cheering me on. Cheating myself from true celebration led to me cheating myself from a true sense of triumph. I couldn’t understand why even after adversity had passed, I still felt as if it had won. I would feel like the hardships took so much while leaving so little. And it was because I wasn’t getting closure from my tragedy. I didn’t realize that every time I silenced my troubles, I was equally silencing my achievements. Even in my success, the damage amounting to not expressing my pain, allowing disturbances to build and build, and harboring every lonely victory with a little resentment towards myself was insurmountable. I was going to explode.

Expressing my troubles created a community that would get down in the trenches with me. It was dirty, it was hard work, but by God they didn’t look back for a second. And now at the end of it, I look around to nothing but people who are proud. I guess that’s the thing.. I wanted people to be proud of me, but wasn’t willing to share why the hell they should be proud. And now… now they get to be proud of me. They get to love me.

It takes a village, and suddenly I had mine. With every reaction I have to life, there is an equal and opposite reaction of belief in me that pushes me forward with so much strength… Which is kind of funny because this whole mess stemmed from me wanting to be strong and capable on my own.

My misguided quest for strength came to be my greatest weakness. And now looking back, I don’t know how I never saw all the things I was stealing from myself. Being vulnerable made me solidified. Being broken made me healed. Being a burden made me fulfilled. And finally being weak made me sturdy even on hard days. Adversity produces good, but only if you don’t let it swallow you whole. Don’t think you’re problems are too big. Don’t think you’re too much trouble.

And just like nothing in life is honestly independent, you are never genuinely alone.

Signed With Love,

-T