Piece by Piece

I sometimes think I really love a good epic fantasy, a fairy tale, because I have this deep need to see a valiant hero, to see a man stick his neck out, risk his life, risk everything in order to save the day.  I hope for it. I dream of it. I just need to actually see it put into action sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen the beauty and selflessness of man.  I’ve seen heroes. I’ve watched some of the most beautiful men risk their lives for their woman, their family, their faith, and their country. I’ve watched heroes die. I’ve lost a hero of my own and have lived with the fact for the past 24 years I was left alone so that others be saved. Others, who often don’t appreciate the sacrifices that were made for them. Others, who often degrade and diminish those sacrifices.

I just heard a song by Kelly Clarkson that had me weeping, because it touches so close to the center of my heart. “Piece by piece he collected me off the ground where you abandoned things. Piece by piece he filled the holes that you burned in me at six years old. He never walks away; he never asks for money. He takes care of me, ‘cause he loves me. Piece by piece he’s restored my faith that a man could be kind and a father could stay… piece by piece.”

Now, that’s a man, one not afraid to pick up the shattered pieces, one unafraid of the difficulties he may have to face for the woman he loves. You know, that’s all women really need from a man - to be loved, to be brave, to be wanted, and needed.  We all have difficulties to face, shattered pieces to put back together, and we women are strong enough to do anything and everything on our own. We don’t need to be saved, we just need to be loved so we can heal, blossom, and then bloom into the beautiful flower that will adorn her man.  

Bonnie Tyler had the right idea. “Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? Where’s the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need.  I need a hero. I’m holding out for a hero ‘til the morning night. He’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast, and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight. I need a hero. I’m holding out for a hero ‘till the morning light.  He’s gotta be sure, and it’s gotta be soon, and he’s gotta be larger than life.  Somewhere after midnight, in my wildest fantasy, somewhere just beyond my reach there’s someone reaching back for me. Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat. It’s gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet.”

We are strong. We are independent. We are resilient. Where have all the good men gone? We need heroes. We don’t need flowery words, empty promises, lies and deceptions.  Our bodies aren’t the prize, it’s our hearts and our minds and our devotion. Why are there so many cowards?  Why do men choose the easy route, the sure, temporary thing? I’ve watched men choose women in fear, too afraid to take a chance, too lazy to face a challenge.  I even had a man tell me once, “Never date someone who’s problems are bigger than yours.” Really?  That’s selfish, that’s lazy, that’s pathetic.  

I’m really tired of cowards, tired of men too afraid to step up and be the men I know they’re capable of being. I understand we live in a world that has constantly been emasculating men for years. I see it every day and it literally makes my heart ache.  Where are our warriors, men willing to fight no matter how difficult the struggle is ahead of them? Where are our gods, men unafraid to love a woman, to devote himself to one woman and make her a goddess, a queen?  Men expect women to be these great queens, but do not feel they must be king themselves first. 

God, help me.  I’m surrounded by minstrels and fools. Piece by piece, let my faith be restored that a man can be kind and a hero can be brave. This sword I carry is heavy.  Take a fucking risk, you cowards! Stop playing these mind games because you’re too afraid to lose, too afraid to fail, too afraid to get hurt.  The best things in life are those things that require risk, require sacrifice, and require a bit of courage.  I’m sick of watching men run away from confrontation, too scared to speak their mind, too afraid to want something, too afraid to put their heart’s on the line. They chase after what’s easy, what’s uncomplicated, until it becomes complicated and then run like a feral dog with their tails tucked between their legs because things get hard. Life is hard.  Life if filled with drama and complications, yet if you stick it out, there’s also a beauty that’s worth it.

Is this what we want to teach our sons, the next generation of men, how to be a coward?  They learn by example, not by words. Let’s teach them that to have a woman look at you with pure admiration and devotion because you stood up and faced your fears like a man, is worth it.  Big muscles don’t make a man, a big heart does. Well-endowed shouldn’t be in reference to the size of a man’s penis, but the size of his courage. Courage shouldn’t only be present when you hold a gun in your hand, but when you hold a heart. Stop this fucking half-hearted, bullshit cowardice two-step dance.  If you don’t have the guts to be the man a woman deserves, a woman needs, then move to the side and go play with young women who don’t know what they want or need and have no confidence in themselves so they’ll put up with your bullshit.  I’m tired of watching the tears stream down a good woman’s face because a coward broke her heart, because he was too much of a pussy to actually devote himself to her, and her alone.  Instead of facing the difficulties of a relationship, they move onto the next unsuspecting woman. 

In a recent conversation with my best friend, they asked me what I wanted, what I needed, what I hoped for in a relationship. It wasn’t a great body, an intellectual mind, a great financial portfolio, or a long laundry list of attributes I found attractive… it was very simply… a man willing to love me with all his heart. That man would have my devotion, my faithfulness, my support, my love.  They would have a partner that would give them everything and who would stand by their side and fight through anything. I’ve been through hell and back, there’s nothing I can’t face, there’s nothing I can’t accomplish, there’s nothing I can’t overcome. I don’t need a man to save me, just love me. But a coward can’t do that.  A coward can’t pick up my pieces, they don’t have the strength.

I don’t need a man. I can take care of myself. I love myself and strive to navigate this world through that love and with that love.  That love blazes like the sun.  Cowards can’t touch the sun, only heroes.  My heart breaks for my friend as I watch her try to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.  I think I empathize because I have found myself in the same position as her many times before.  My anger this morning is perhaps for us both.  I’m so sick of cowards.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not beating up on all men. I love men. I love good men. I admire courageous men. I respect heroes. I know there are good men out there.  I just need to see them, just a little piece.

Cowards and Fools

You know, I have fears just like everyone else. Contrary to popular belief, I’m a human being and have emotions. There’s a lot of evil in this world, and I’ve unfortunately faced a panacea of it, and the result is I carry a constant wariness. I’ve learned how to build walls, place distance, and shield myself by saying no and gathering the courage to walk away. Yet, despite my shaking hands, I face most of my fears. I’m not afraid to fuck up, nor am I a coward to own up to my mistakes. So, I find it quite vexing to be surrounded by cowards – people who talk tough, puff out their chests, and project an image of strength. Yet when it comes times to act they run and shoot their arrows from the shadows, negating any sense of responsibility.

Right now I’m fighting the biggest battle of my life and it literally rips my heart in two when I see great men run away in cowardice… over stupid little shit that means nothing. A great man isn’t the one that can hit the hardest or kill the most. It’s the one that can do all those things, yet with the simplest touch of tenderness earn the devotion of his men.

Case in point.

I recently had the honor and privilege of meeting a man who is strong by all outward appearances, even physically he looks like he could tear your head off with relative ease. What attracted me to this man was his sense of authority. When he spoke, those around him listened and followed. He was a natural leader. I got to witness this leadership, not by his words only – but by example. He jumped into the trenches, wasn’t afraid or too haughty to so the menial things in order to help build his team. Oh, he was tough, and spoke tough, and was hot-headed like you wouldn’t believe. I watched him verbally incinerate people like a pit bull. That’s what I compared him with – a pit bull whose growl made all the other tough-talking men sound like puppies in comparison. I was impressed by this, not because of his domination, but because I saw his aggression as passion. Passionate people love deeply and hate magnanimously, but they at least feel. I got to see that compassionate side too… when he stuck around to help a wounded friend. I was colored impressed.

This man’s compassion was also evident in the way he spoke of his friends and allies. The love, pride, and admiration that he espoused stirred up my longing to be a part of it, carrying a hope that one day he’d speak of me with like compassion. I followed this alpha dog around the yard, so proud to be part of the pack, enjoying all the rough-housing, the playful yard fights, just happy being there… until one day he turned around and bit me. At first I thought it was a small nip of correction, but it wasn’t. He got a taste of blood and the next thing I know he’s got me in a throat clamp.

Up until that point, I could understand. I was a new bitch in the yard. I needed to be tested before I could be fully accepted. My presence stirred some of the Betas to become courageous, and because one dared to deny the alpha, he was rejected from the pack. That principal in and of itself, I could understand. But what shocked me is the display of cowardice that followed.

After the big yard fight, and my submission, all became quiet and the Alpha took his spot on his throne and the rest of us all went to our little corners to lick our wounds. Assured by the Alpha and all the Betas privately that all would be well as the sun set, that all was forgiven, that tomorrow was a new day, I woke with the golden light of dawn to an empty yard. The liars moved on in the middle of the night, in the shadows, slinking away like cowards as I slept. Yet, they were far from unified. As they reached the edge of the wilderness, they all scattered like the wind. All but the Alpha circled back to me alone in the yard, promising me that I was part of their pack, and that all would be well when tempers cooled. If not, that I had a place in whatever new pack they formed.

This once beautiful pack that I loved, admired, and was often jealous of their bond wasn’t as it had seemed. For a while I thought I had caused the fissure between them, and the guilt ate at me. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. When taking care of myself was the most important thing in the world, I instead worked tirelessly to try and breach the gap – urging all of them to return to the Alpha without me and make things right – because what they had was worth fighting for, it was one of the few beautiful things in this gray-colored world. But the Alpha disappeared into the forest, leaving the pack scattered.

I know now that the cracks were not created by me or my presence. They were already there and I just happened to be a catalyst that brought those hidden things to the surface. I still believe that there can be reconciliation, but not from the shadows. I’ve moved on and joined another pack, yet determined to remain independent at the same time. My hope is that these young pups return to their Alpha. Life is too short to have stupid shit like this destroy something so beautiful. If they could see themselves the way I saw them, they’d see it’s something worth fighting for.

I’m forced to face the possibility of death as I fight for my life. In this perspective some fights are futile, yet some are worth the pain. There’s enough shit in this world, don’t let this be another piece of it. The beauty of this pack was never about the game, but the brotherhood. Scores don’t mean shit, skill means nothing, and tournaments don’t compare… to the friendship, the love, the support of knowing someone’s got your back, someone’s there when you need them, someone gives a shit whether you’re dead or alive. Trust me – those are the important things in life, they’re what make life worth living. Cowards get hung up on the bullshit, because they’re too afraid to let someone get close. Getting close, means exposing yourself to the possibility of getting hurt. So, instead of putting that possibility on the line – they hide in cowardice – kick out, unfriend, ignore, and run away because that’s the easy thing to do.

I’m such a fool. I know I’ll die a fool and I’m okay with that. In my foolishness, I’ll still love the unlovable, even when they will never love me back. I’ll still love my introverted friends who don’t need me or want me. I’d rather be a fool than a coward, though I’m often both.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Failures or Cowards?

What is a failure really?  Does not being able to complete a task that we dare to accomplish translate as a failure?  When a relationship breaks down and we separate is that also a failure? 

I have my different definition for failure, or else I still have yet to find the correct correlating word. Failure to me is simply being too afraid to try. Allowing an opportunity to pass, that’s failure. Having tried something and it fall apart or tear to pieces isn’t failure - that’s understanding and discovering how something doesn’t work.

When it comes to relationships I watch so many people build emotional walls because they’re afraid of failure. Having had a relationship that didn’t work, they believe themselves proverbial failures. But they’re not. They’re simply cowards. I don’t want to be a coward.

I know this fear because I face it every day. I don’t want to build the same walls. I do want to protect myself from the pain that comes from a broken relationship, but not at the cost of isolation.  I want to run. I want to hide. I want to believe I’m better off not loving in the first place than taking the risk of loving again and getting hurt even more than I am now. That’s the easy thing. It’s not what winners do, it’s what failures do.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’ve never failed. I’ve had things fall apart, situations cost me everything, relationships tear me to pieces, but I’ve always tried – again and again and again and again until I discover what works. I face things that scare me. I risk everything for my dreams. I don’t just talk about doing things… I do them. I may complain and whine and cry and pitch a fit in the middle of my fear, but I still jump, I still leap, and I still take the gamble. I may not be showered in riches or exude what the world defines as success, but I’m a winner because I have the courage to try – again and again and again.

E.E. Cummings says, “It takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are.”

John Wooden says, “Success is never final, failure is never fatal. It is courage that counts.”

Mark Twain says, “With courage, you will dare to take risks, have the strength to be passionate, and the wisdom to be humble. Courage is the foundation of integrity.”

Albert Einstein says, “You never fail until you stop trying.”

Cormac McCarthy says, “Long before the morning, I knew that what I was seeking to discover was a thing I’d always known, that all courage was a thing of constancy. That it is always himself that the coward abandoned first. After this all other betrayals comes easy.”

This quote moves me most, because I’ve seen it in action too many times. We often think our betrayals are of the other person, but what we don’t often realize is that we’ve first betrayed ourselves. The secrets, the lies, the guilt, the shame, it all comes after we’ve betrayed ourselves.  This is what I fear most, that I will betray ME, that I will let ME down, that I will fail ME, that I will allow a coward to come into my life and drag me down into failure. It is for this purpose I continue to try and have become particular who I allow into my life - because I deserve the best, I deserve success, I deserve love, and I deserve happiness. I deserve to be with a winner. As long as I keep seeking these things and never stop, I’m not a failure. Finding or not finding isn’t the prize, the measure of success, or where living is done – but life, character, courage and success are found in the process.

I’m not a coward; therefore I am not a failure.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray