You Can Hurt Me Tomorrow

Or the day after that.

We humans are fragile creatures, prone to all manner of physical and emotional pains. A harsh word, a sideways glance, a forgotten anniversary—any of these can wound us more deeply than we'd care to admit.

And yet, in our hubris, we often behave as though we are invincible, strutting through life with a misplaced confidence that belies the tenuousness of our well-being.

Perhaps we would be better served by a dose of humility, a recognition that at any moment, the rug could be pulled out from under us by a twist of fate or a cruel remark.

"You can hurt me tomorrow," we might say to the universe, acknowledging our inherent vulnerability. Not as an invitation to be harmed, mind you, but as a clear-eyed acceptance of life's inevitable difficulties.

There is a strange comfort to be found in this surrender, in relinquishing the illusion of control.

Why exhaust ourselves in a futile attempt to avoid all pain when we could instead focus our energies on cultivating resilience?

On building the emotional fortitude to weather hurt feelings and skinned knees alike?

Of course, this is easier said than done. In the heat of the moment, when harsh words sting like a slap, it can be challenging to maintain perspective and remember that this, too, shall pass. But with practice, we might learn to face life's slings and arrows with more equanimity, secure in the knowledge that we need not be defined by our momentary sufferings.  

So go ahead, world; you can hurt me tomorrow. Or the day after that. I'll be here, licking my wounds but soldiering on, buoyed by the hard-won wisdom that comes from embracing my own fragility. And who knows? Maybe I'll even find the strength to laugh at myself along the way and the grace to extend a bit more kindness to my fellow vulnerable humans.