Authenticity: Band-Aids of the Soul

Authenticity.

At what point has this world traded an open and transparent heart for a fabricated recreation of the sensible and comfortable transfixation? Why is it that we’ve chosen to establish guards on the exteriors of our bodies, and the interiors of our souls? Am I accustomed to that culture—Am I a part of this perpetual system? Trained so deliberately to shroud my authentic identity? My whole self? Simply because it is what society expects—or desires from me?

I’m often captivated by how many people would prefer to operate in a state of continual suffering, rather than become real with themselves, with you, then with others. How quickly do we hide aspects of our lives that are complicated and messy from those that matter—as if time and repression will make these feelings cease. Yet to our disdain—no matter the trails and the effort—still the struggles remain.

Maybe there’s an interconnected relation between the struggle and the authenticity. Do greater struggles require a greater sense of authenticity? Is it proportionally related? Do the limits of my independent coping ability become the ceiling for an invitation of your spirit into connection? For you to be the adhesion—the bond—unifying me with people to share in the struggle—and to impart and place courage in someone who desperately needs it.

Yet—where does this process begin? Is it initiated by admission of need—or downfall? Is it followed by the internal challenge—posing emotions and their weight—with a depth of spiritual grounding? The years of strife that will likely follow—the internalization of the brokenness—the rejections of others—but more crippling by oneself—soon following and interacting with your day to day existence.

This makes you sincerely question whether you are “Damaged Goods,” an “Accident” or a mistake. The tension of the struggle and authenticity becomes more and more apparent—as the recognition that being captivated and trapped inside your own skull will no longer be sustainable—that the struggle has become too strong to face alone—THE SEARCH FOR AUTHENTICITY BECOMES A NECCESSITY, NOT JUST A LONGING. It’s no longer about learning and trying to repress the damage done—it’s about being bandaged up—after exposing the wounds—allowing air, and your spirit to permeate the torn sinew, and reach the subcutaneous levels of the skin and heart. As the qualified people who you’ve exposed your tender wounds to—allowed their touch to doctor the tarnished pieces of your feeble human shell; as they’ve seen you authentically broken, the grip of self-internalized shame has come to pass—although the reality—the dooming reality and existence of the physiological struggle doesn’t dissipate—the knowledge of being completely known provides a cooling sensation to the burns of the past; the fears planted by the enemy are uprooted, and real relationships can actually begin.

Would I choose bravery in spite of fears and unknown responses. Would my authenticity yield fruit—and a deeper understanding of my complex, broken, and beautiful humanity.

Would I learn to be grateful for the struggles.