A proverbial beacon of strength
My power intimidates
Power seekers surround me
Why am I so alone?
My image ramrod straight
Unflappable
Courageous
Charming
Witty
And more alone than ever
Who is this pillar of strength?
Is it me…or who I should strive to be?
I yearn to be myself
I have lost that self I liked so much
Buried beneath the towers of my “Image”
A sudden sadness overwhelms me
The steel façade begins to crumble
Against my will, through tears of anguish
The essence of my being lies revealed…vulnerable
Undefended, trusting with arms outreaching
Loving Souls comfort me
I am never alone.
I can recall so clearly, as a young Plebe at the Naval Academy, being the object of wrath of so many upperclassmen. I was seventeen, rebellious, miserable and totally resentful of finding myself in an all male military establishment. I had no military aptitude or bearing; I wasn’t cut out for this sort of stuff.
My dad forced me to go Well, I could hardly say no after being accepted…only to find out forty years later that he had a hand in my acceptance. So I went, determined that I could find “the right stuff” – but it wasn’t my stuff. I became very confused, feelings of personal unworthiness intensified.
The upperclass got on my case. One in particular wants to get me to quit. I can’t do that – go home to a disappointed and judgmental father – no way. He’s always after me; I can’t escape. He finds me in formation one evening just before dinner. My shirt is soaked with sweat from doing pushups for the past half hour. I know he will find something wrong. He does.
“Stevens, you piece of shit!” he bellows not six inches from my face.
“Yes, Sir,” I respond acknowledging, I suppose, his admonition.
“Who shined your shoes?”
“I did, Sir”
“They look like shit! You look like shit.”
“I can’t hear you, maggot!”
“Yes, Sir!” I bellow with every ounce of energy I have, grateful for the physical outlet of intense rage and hatred I feel towards this person.
This upperclassman has friends. Two or three join him now and they look at me with ridicule and sarcasm.
“Fix your cap, asshole.” One commands.
Another makes fun of my posture.
Another turns his back towards me and breaks wind.
I have no choice other that to remain at attention, eyes straight ahead. Inside, the rage is exploding, ever so close to that point of no return.
And they just look at me and laugh.
My main nemesis looks into my eyes with scorn.
“You’re nothing but a piece of shit, Stevens. Why did you come here? Why don’t you go home? You should quit – we don’t want you here!”
“No, Sir. I want to become a naval officer.” (God, was this a lie!)
“Well, we don’t want you, Stevens! This place would be so much better if you just crawled out of here and left for good.”
Our eyes locked, defiant and challenging.
Without warning, a flood of emotions erupted within me. Rage turned to despair… despair to defeat… defeat to unworthiness. The reality of my military ineptitude and hopelessness of my situation screamed back to me.
My eyes flooded with tears. Silently, I began to shake… uncontrollably. I knew at that point I was toast.
Mr. Nemesis quickly dismissed his friends. I waited for the inevitable ridicule. He had done it…he had broken me.
He said nothing. His eyes softened and he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Quietly, he led me out of formation, around the corner to where I could gain my composure in private. In an instant, he went from nemesis to mentor. There was a friendly tenderness in his eyes now.
I was embarrassed and fearful. He reassured me, shaking my hand. “We’ll get through this.” He said and became a good and lasting friend.
Now, so many years later, I can still see that change in his eyes at my moment of surrender. I hadn’t planned it that way, of course; it just happened. Why was his transformation so swift, so permanent and absolute?
I thought I was being weak. Now I think differently. Vulnerability is not weakness…just the absence of defense, the absence of protective and threatening shields projected on others. Inside, I revealed my authentic self and appealed to that sense of connectivity we all have in open and honest moments.
When we reach the point in time when none of us needs weapons or shields, maybe there will be a new communion of humanity. Based in love and trust rather than suspicion and fear.
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