Being hyper-independent has made me build my walls too robust and high. Since I was young, I was taught to handle many responsibilities, and being my family’s backup plan was something I thought I should be proud of. But as I age, it feels heavier and I’m no longer proud of it.
All those experiences shaped who I am today. I’d rather hurt myself doing something than ask for help. It’s like I’d rather struggle to stay afloat in the sea, knowing I can’t swim, than scream for help. I guess I don’t like putting down my walls.
Maybe it’s because I want to be seen as reliable – that’s the older sister in me speaking. So, I had to make sure my walls were tough and secure to carry the weight of everything else. Sometimes, I do put my walls down, and it feels like drowning. When my walls completely collapse, I feel like a child again. A child who seeks comfort but only gets scolded for being weak. A child who seeks comfort but is questioned about why she achieves so little compared to others. A child who wants to be cared for just for who she is, not only when people need an older sister to rely on.
I don’t like talking about my walls, not because they are hard, tough, and durable, but because they are soft, easy to collapse, and old.
