WE ARE ALL STILL MADE OF SNOW
The only one.
I hear these three words everywhere. Sometimes so succinctly, other times in the drawn out rambles of self-doubt. I hear it in the heart's of my friends and in people I've only just met. It makes it's persistent appearance in the loop that runs in my mind in the quiet moments of my day.
It doesn't matter what topic is on the table. Doubts. Failures. Longings. Weaknesses. Quirks. Fears. We all feel like the outlier, usually in the worst of ways.
We feel as though surely no one is so hung up on that thing, that insecurity or inability, and because we hold on to that belief we perpetuate the isolation. By not sharing where we are struggling we are doing a great disservice. We keep everyone, ourselves included, at a distance and that space is filled with a polite "how are you?", a tidy "good!", and a shallow rhythm of relationship.
The remedy to this is within our control. It's giving the gift of going first. Of interrupting the isolation and offering connection. In giving away what we want we will actually receive it. C.S. Lewis wrote "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another 'What! You Too? I thought I was the only one.'" Vulnerability breeds vulnerability.
It's your story that makes you unique. The life events, and resulting perspectives, that serve as the adjectives to the tale of you. The unease and fears? That's human nature.
Just like snowflakes, no two of us are the same, but we are all still made of snow.