Skin and Armour

There was a guy who once loved someone so deeply that he thought his heart would break forever when she went away.

There was a guy who wanted to wrap his arms around the world but got distracted by cynicism and apathy.

There was a guy who once met opportunity with guts and a smile but learned to choose certainty over possibility.

That guy was me (as if you hadn’t figured it out), so I guess the old adage of “you teach best what you most need to learn” is true.

In becoming a confidence coach I’ve learned heaps about where my armour ends and my skin begins.

Armour presses in and makes it hard to breathe. Skin is built to breathe naturally.

Armour asks that you trust in its’ hardness. Skin nurtures trust in the air that moves across it.

Armour deflects blows but bruises what’s underneath deeply. Skin bleeds when pricked but shows you what it is to heal.

Armour keeps the wind and dirt out.

Skin is there to feel the world.

So yeah, if I hadn’t learned what I’ve learned I’d be an exemplar for self-doubt with a heart made of what-ifs, but I’d be lying like a bad toupee if I said that I have this nailed.

I keep surprising myself at how I hold myself back or keep myself safe, and so perhaps the biggest thing I’ve learned is this.

The point where your armour ends and your skin begins isn’t constant and isn’t obvious.

You just have to seek the air on your skin, and not pull back when you feel it.

  • I think you told me once that we don’t necessarily ever “have this nailed”. It’s a constant check and balance, checking in with ourselves, and letting it be ok when we stumble. You sounded sad in this post. I hope you’ve tackled whatever it was that set you back there for a bit. And if you haven’t quite, well, that’s ok too.

    • A constant check and balance – absolutely.

      Maybe I was a little melancholy writing this one. Part of the human condition – it’s all good 🙂

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