This morning I was writing in my journal, as I usually do after I wake and have a cup of coffee to start the day. As I thought, I came to this realization:
I have refused to put on the hard shell that many men have put on to protect themselves pain and other bad emotions like sadness, sorrow, grief, or fear.
And I have made it a hard refusal -- a "Fuck-That-Shit!" attitude behind my decision -- and not a decline, which can be polite -- "Thank you very much, but no thank you."
I see those hard shells trap many men. They have worn those shells so long that it's a second skin to their souls. Remove it from them and they are as helpless as lobsters and turtles without their shells.
But to my disadvantage, I never found a good replacement for the hard shell. Because of that, I've floundered. No male older than me showed me or told me about a different way. Also, I wasn't brave enough to create and follow my own way, a different way.
I have hid. Now I must go out.
And that admission is very personal by the standards that I've set for the posts in this blog.