I Am But Human

It seems like a new year again. After Easter. I’ve been away for a few days. I didn’t mean to. I did have the time. It’s not writer’s block either. Many ideas kept boggling in my head. There’s one thing that prevented me from sitting down and expressing my thoughts. It’s that I couldn’t compose myself.

 

I seem to be experiencing my own crucifixion too. Yes, things weren’t perfect around. Perhaps, I was a little carried away by how things went. Or, I could be making mountains out of a molehill. I don’t know. This is one situation in life where I dread the most—when I don’t know what’s happening within. I hate to lost my stability. 

 

It is but human conditioning to stand on safer grounds—to be in control of everything going on in our life. If not, we are deemed lost or a little bit broken. We don’t like that. I don’t like that. I don’t like to be like a prey of something bigger than me. I don’t like to be fighting with a monster I couldn’t figure out what.

 

At some point, I yielded to the idea that it may be depression lurking within the confines of my head. Why? I haven’t yet arrived at the place where I want to be in a specified time. A monster within prevented me. Sometimes it helps to allow things to happen its way and just flow with the ebb of time. Yet, a voice within says: Hey! You should be doing this. You should be doing that.

 

Sometimes I recognize it to be my voice. Sometimes it’s a stranger’s. At times, I thought I wasn’t thinking right. Maybe, I’d go insane? This is what puzzled me most about life. When the universe wants to tell you the way you should go, it doesn’t give you one option. It gives two. It’s always either up or down; sanity or insanity; enlightenment or foolishness. The mere act of choosing is so difficult I needed to pour out my vulnerability with someone. So glad my husband’s there for me. Willing to hold my hand even if he could not quite comprehend what’s going on my insides. This might be what husbands are made for too.

 

So, I was crucified on Good Friday. I took up my cross and marched to some kind of death. I know, what I’ve been through was nothing compared to what Jesus, or others had been through. But it helps a little to say: I, too, have my own cross. Those who took up their crosses and never uttered a word were unicorns, while I am but human.

 

Now, Easter has come. A resurrection for those who believed. I am a lot better. Not because things are getting clearer. In fact, it’s still murky. But I have this one realization: it’s okay to feel not okay. It’s okay to be in a maze. It’s okay to stand on unstable grounds.

 

What drove the nail deep within my flesh was the thought of sharing only with you the things that are beautiful. This thought prevented me from writing for days. I said I could not be expressing my vulnerabilities here. The world doesn’t need it. I could have researched for some more positive things to share. I could have echoed the positive message of the great gurus and wise men out there.

 

Only that I don’t want to lie. I’ve lived a life full of lies over a decade. I recently turned away from that path because I choose to walk my talk. Now that I’m here, I’ve got to make the most of it.

 

Our vulnerabilities are beautiful too. Our humanness is perfect in its imperfection. What drives us crazier is the fear of feeling weak and walking on the path of the unknown. We could not shun away from the imperfections in our life and favor only the “perfect” events. We are humans. We fail. And we are still beautiful in our failures. It’s not something ugly. It’s something we have to go through. It’s part of the process of our becoming.

 

My other realization is that I am just human. Meaning, I need to face the fact that Someone out there is greater than me. And it’s in my weaknesses that I could say: Okay, I’m done. Please take over.

I am but human. I didn’t come here because I choose to. I come here out of love. And out of love, I could say: I accept and love myself wherever I am standing. I’m sure, the One who brought me here would never allow me to just fade like an unsung song.

Since it’s resurrection, I could start seeing life with fresh new eyes. Match with a belief that things are always beautiful despite the truth that I am but human.

Happy Easter!

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