Why is it so hard to be vulnerable?
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Why do we innately only share bits and pieces of ourselves – even with those closest to us?
I know the obvious answer is fear of pain and judgment, but what are we fearing? Why do we fear judgement? And what triggers people’s fears?
I’ve never been scared of kids.. until now.
I fear my 2-year-old granddaughter.
There. I said it.
I suppose fear is not really an accurate word, but she intimidates the crap out of me. She’s nothing like her mother was at that age, who was a sweet bundle of joy who never knew a stranger. Her mother – my daughter -was a giver of cuddles. She made it easy to love, and loved easily in return.
Not this stone-faced child. She’s hard. She makes me work for it – and then sometimes that still doesn’t work.
To be frank, what I think I catch glimpses of is a look of downright disdain. Sometimes she will just stare at me blankly when I tell her bye, refusing to hug, kiss, or even speak. It’s like nobody’s home or she has the poker face of a gangster.
Her big, dark eyes sear. It’s as if those black eyes instantaneously peel back my layers and reveal that scared little girl.
The thing that disheartens me most about this intimidation by a 2-year-old, is not her, but me – and the fact that I am even flinching.
Who am I to suddenly be deterred by a toddler? What have I become?
Unfortunately, this turn of events over the last year of deaths, medical difficulties, and infidelity disclosure has done something to my psyche. It’s as if I forget I have two good legs to stand on anymore.
It’s ridiculous. I mustn’t allow the infidelity beast to keep me down, nor the two-year-old.