Taller Than Trenches

Tegan & Sara – Hell .mp3
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Not everything is absolute and sure, no matter how much you believe it to be.  Even your heroes are fallible.  Men you thought were Gods, women you thought were Goddesses, people you worshiped and emulated and modeled your life after; they can fall to the lowest of lows and seeing them there, limp, broken, sad and hurting is difficult as hell to comprehend.  Their capes torn, they suddenly are human and just like you.  It’s scary and heartbreaking.

But I’ve been there before.

It’s amazing the inner strength you can muster if you just trust yourself enough to find it.  When you are hurting so badly and can still pick up and help someone else as they wade through their own thick hell, it serves as a distraction.  But it’s heavy.  So very heavy. And some days you break into a million ribbons of glass as you fall into bed.  Rather then be defeated, you find grace in small things and try to project happiness into the world instead.

Sometimes trying to be everything to everyone means saying no to someone you love.  Growing up means not allowing yourself to be pulled into situations where you don’t belong, no matter how hard the tug on your heartstrings.  So you admit defeat, that you don’t have the capacity to cope with more of this when there is already so much.  You think about the point where your resolve broke and the guilt is added to the weight you already carry.  You silently kiss loved ones goodbye for now and know they will find their way without you.

Sometimes the ground will be pulled from underneath you, you will pick yourself back up and rebuild from nothing.  Then you will look back and wonder how the hell you did it. But try explaining that to someone who’s ground was only just torn from beneath their feet.  It’s hard to show them what’s beyond the inside of the trench unless they stretch farther than what they think they’re capable of.  The irony of attempting to push someone to stretch is not lost on you.

They don’t have to stay in that trench.  They are curled up in the fetal position and you can’t pick them up alone.

So you choke back what you want to shout:

Get out of the fucking trench and walk tall.  Grab life by the balls and don’t look back.  Because even though your heroes have fallen and hell is loud and hot, you don’t have to stay there every damn day.  Be your own hero. Fly.

There are brighter ways to spend your time when you shake off the day and focus on home.  Strong arms envelop you and you sink deeper into love over and over again and thank every star in the universe that you and your best friend are boring.  Giggles and stories and little lives need attending.  The escape to their tiny arms around your neck is enough.  Their smiles heal you.  Even when they are tired and cranky, your voice is calm and your mama superpowers comfort and soothe them.  They are such magical beings, they don’t even know how much they lift you up every day.

As their hero, you hope you never fail them.  That you are always taller than trenches.

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