Chink in My Armor

This is for my families, past, present and future.

I haven't been particularly inspired to write for quite a while.  Originally, I meant to devote this blog to jewelry making and the creative path, but quite honestly, that got pretty boring to write about. Probably boring for you, too! Plus, there are so many people writing about that, I'd rather leave it to the real experts.  I'd much rather write about memories or my obsessions or life or insights or other things along those lines...so here goes.

First of all, let me explain this title.  A chink in one's armor means a point of vulnerability or a crack or a weak spot. It has nothing whatsoever to do with disparaging anyone of Eastern descent.  This disclaimer is for all the ultra-sensitives out there with challenged vocabularies.  That said...

I'm introspective by nature, but lately I've REALLY been introspective.
I got some devastating news very recently. Once I calmed down from the initial explosion of grief, I began to take a hard look at myself and my actions over my lifetime.  Came to finally realize that my own stiff-necked pride and hurt feelings over slights (real or imagined) shorted me and my children out of what might have been some loving relationships.  You see, when I'm hurt or betrayed (or think so) by those I love, I get to work building up a stout wall, then turn and walk away. I'm done forever with this or that person and there is no going back for me.  In this one particular situation, I also managed to shut out an entire family because I thought they thought blood was thicker than water and I was not blood, therefore I, and by association, my children didn't matter so much to them. So I walked away and started a new life elsewhere. I never heard much from them. The new life part was a great idea, but the walking away part was not.

In talking it all over with my now husband, I told him I finally realized my habit of turning away might not always have been the good and right thing to have done.  He told me I was, indeed, a 'hard, hard woman' and that he had always been afraid to ever criticize me too much because he was afraid I'd walk away from him as well. (Like that would ever happen!) I reminded him that he really wasn't the King of Tact and Diplomacy and that I might be a lot more receptive to criticism if he just wouldn't be as blunt as a spoon about it.  He laughed.  I laughed, too...through my tears.  I retrospectively see now that my mother always did this, I did it and now I see my daughter does it, too.  We have to stop this cycle of proverbially slamming these doors closed.

At any rate, I'm completely aghast at this bit of self-discovery.  Knowing what a total marshmallow exists inside, I'm incredulous to learn that others very well might perceive me as hard and unbending. I mean, come on...EVERYTHING makes me cry!  Soap opera weddings and Undercover Boss make me weep with abandon. How could such a softie be a 'hard, hard woman'? But apparently it is so.  It is precisely because of this inner jello that we build these walls and tough outer shells to protect ourselves. Unfortunately, we keep out much more than just the pain.  We keep out love, too.

But age mellows one, and I am mellowing quite well, thank you!  So now I have a God-given opportunity to put some of the past in the past.  Forever.  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to those who are reaching out in the midst of deep pain and sorrow.

And yes, I'm pretty sure someone is helping orchestrate this from her spot in heaven.  My families know who and what I mean.  I will do my best not to mess it up this time.

Till we meet again,

“Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.” 
― Mother Teresa