Asking Someone To Hold Your Hand Doesn’t Make You Any Less Capable

There’s a give and take that happens when you’re riding on the NYC subway. The train tests your balance, it tricks you into believing that you have full control as long as your feet are placed just so — and then, it startles to a stop and you’re left holding onto a pole. You catch your breath, look around to make sure no one else noticed and then wrap your fingers around it just a little tighter to remind yourself you’re steady. You’re here and just because full control isn’t in your grasp anymore doesn’t mean that your power over how you perceive the moment has changed.

Your bravado of needing to do it alone may be gone, but your strength is intact.

A relationship, the healthy kind, is the same way.

There’s an imbalance and then there isn’t.

There’s a need to control and then it’s gone.

There’s chuckling at blind faith until you’re suddenly trusting blindly. All at once and not quick enough.

At different times in your life those who act as a steadying force may change. It’s your friends during a breakup. It’s your partner during a family meltdown. It’s yourself when the world around you has closed in on you and the words are too hard to let out, so you keep them company until you understand them.

But the way that these outside individuals can act like the heroes of your own feature film has always impressed me. Because for some people it may sound like a weakness to admit to being saved by the presence of someone else, but, really, it’s the biggest strength and the greatest act of surrendering to the present.

To have a hug or I love you unintentionally remind me that he saved me by giving me a safe place to fall, it’s also a reminder that he was able to do so because I sunk my shoulders and put my head up long enough to let it happen. It’s a reminder that in the pull and push of a life that at times can be unforgiving, I forgave myself for not having the answers and looked to someone else to lead me down the fork in the road or to sit by me while I figured it out.

And maybe faith does that for you, or the best friend you’ve never needed more than brunch with to set you straight, but regardless of who, it’s just a blessing that they do.

There was one moment when him and I were standing on a street corner and I was crying into his chest when I realized that I know what it’s like to feel fractured and put together within the same second.

There’s a wholeness that comes with knowing that individual moments can’t undo what he’s done for me, in moments of intention and happenstance. It’s liberating.

It’s understanding that I can be my own superhero, but I don’t have to anymore. I can keep my balance and hold onto the pole, at the same damn time.