“You shouldn’t try to be everyone’s rock. That’s wrong no matter how you look at it. I’m not saying that you can’t be strong for someone — that’s what being in a relationship is all about. You’re there for that person, and that person is there for you. But you can’t do that for everyone all at once, all by yourself. The problem with being everyone’s rock is that when you try, it just doesn’t work. You fall short, and you break down, because it’s way too much for one person to handle. What’s worse is that the people you do it for rarely think to check you for cracks.”
I overheard this in a Kwik Fill this morning, and for whatever reason, the line has just stuck with me for the rest of today. For one thing, I guess it’s because stuff like that is much deeper than the chitchat about gas mileage and crappy coffee that I usually overhear in gas stations. I really wish that I’d taken the time to find out who said it, though. I would’ve loved to join that person’s conversation and talk about it for a while, because the more I thought about it, the more strongly I felt that the way we’ve been raised to think of vulnerability is so twisted.
As a human trait, I believe that vulnerability is grossly misunderstood and undervalued. Far too often, it’s an emotion that’s only thought of as being a weakness that needs to be suppressed. I think it’s really sad when wearing your heart on your sleeve is seen as being immature or something to be avoided, because it just leads to seeing sensitivity as a flaw. Unfortunately, this is especially true for guys. As boys grow up, we raise them to think that boys just don’t or shouldn’t cry, and that they will be teased, mocked or thought of as being less manly or girly for doing so. God, I could go on for an hour about the problem of associating tears with being girly as a negative trait, but that’s a conversation I’ll have to save for another day. On the subject of boys being raised to suppress vulnerability and sensitivity, I can only speak from my own experience as I grew up. Now don’t get me wrong — my parents did not raise me to think that being sensitive was a weakness. However, the fact that nearly every other boy I knew growing up was taught to think that made all the difference anyway. They were taught that being sensitive or talking about vulnerability was being a sissy, and they certainly repeated it to me. Constantly.
As a result, I found myself shutting down my natural sensitivity when I was around other guys, in the interest of seeming normal. Don’t worry, though — as I grew older, I did realize that it was ridiculous to hide my sensitivity completely. Who cares if someone thought less of me for it? That person had the problem, not me. However, what I didn’t realize is that the nature of my sensitivity problem had changed. I had begun to take on other people’s vulnerabilities and problems, listening to what ailed them when they needed to vent, with no thought of telling someone else about what was going on with me — what my problems were. This was partly because I didn’t want to trouble anyone with my problems, and partly because of a pride issue. I wanted to think that I could take care of everyone else because it was somehow my responsibility, and that I was just that strong. I could handle it, because I’m strong like that.
It took me a long time to realize how damaging and dangerous that kind of mentality is, but I think I’m finally starting to appreciate it in full. Thinking like that can destroy you if you’re not careful. When I realized this in my sophomore year of college, I also realized just how many of my classmates did exactly the same thing. I wanted to yell at them to stop, that it was so unhealthy to think like that on top of worrying about grades and student debt (another passionate conversation for another day).
Honestly, to close this out, I really can’t say it better than the random conversation I heard in a gas station today: “The problem with being everyone’s rock is that when you try, it just doesn’t work. You fall short, and you break down, because it’s way too much for one person to handle. What’s worse is that the people you do it for rarely think to check you for cracks.”
