Stoicism

Resilience Unmasked: Embracing Vulnerability’ Strength

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Resilience Unmasked Embracing Vulnerability' Strength

Timi epitomized strength, even his physique a testament to his rugged nature. Firmly entrenched in his beliefs, he considered vulnerability a trait meant for women, an attribute incompatible with his masculine identity. Despite the weariness visibly etched into each step on his journey homeward, he maintained a façade of unwavering resilience It had been a particularly grueling day at work, and the weight of disappointment bore down on him as he trudged home. Timi pushed open the creaking door of the small, dimly lit room he shared with his younger brother, Michael. The sad look on his face when he told him he couldn’t get his school fees, shattered him.  Without a word, Michael stormed out of the room angrily, and Timi ran after him.  “Let him go,” he heard their mothers who were watching her favorite show say.  Turning away, he caught a glimpse of her loving gaze and the open arms she extended toward him. It was enough for the dam to break. Had she seen his struggles, the relentless pressures that he shouldered? If he had delayed a second longer, he would have masked up and pretended he was fine, as he often did. Timi fell into the embrace of his mother, her arms wrapping around him with the warmth of understanding and unconditional love. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He burst into heavy, loud tears, grateful his younger siblings weren’t home to witness this vulnerability.  Why would he restrain it, he wondered? Wasn’t he the one who had yearned to be able to cry aloud without having to hide behind closed palms? The burden that weighed him down was not solely society’s expectation of unyielding strength from a man, but the overwhelming responsibilities he had taken on. Since his father’s untimely passing, he had stepped into the role of the family’s provider and protector, becoming both husband and father to his younger siblings. He was only a child too. His loud wail eventually subsided into hiccups, and slowly he let himself out of his mother’s comforting embrace. Realizing what had just happened, embarrassed, he abruptly took to his heels. It didn’t feel as liberating as he had thought it would.  She watched him go, a mixture of concern and understanding in her eyes. The last time he saw him cry was the day his father was buried. But today, he had seen her son in a moment of vulnerability, a side of him he had kept hidden for so long. But perhaps, in that moment of openness, Timi had found a safe space to be himself, even if it was only for a brief moment. After a lot of contemplation, she followed him to his room and sat beside him. “Timi, crying doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re human. You don’t always have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s okay to let your emotions out. You’ve been so strong for all of us, but remember, it’s not weak men who cry.” As he watched his mother in her wheelchair,  he realized the truth in her words. He could be strong and vulnerable at the same time. He didn’t need to be a solitary hero. Sometimes, he could lean on those who loved him, including his mother. As Timi sank into the recesses of his thoughts, he remembered an article on vulnerability. It was an article he had chanced upon weeks before the emotional outburst that changed his perspective. It emphasized breaking stereotypes and embracing emotional authenticity. Each word of that piece now felt like a lifeline, a guide through the maze of societal expectations. It was a narrative he hadn’t fully understood then, yet its resonance lingered, a quiet companion in the chaos of his emotions. That article, now a beacon of truth, painted vulnerability not as a weakness but as a beacon of strength—a realization that echoed within him as he reflected on the journey he had just experienced.

How Stoicism Helped Me Overcome the Trauma of Losing My Father

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Stoicism

Stoicism is a philosophy that teaches you how to live a virtuous and meaningful life, regardless of external circumstances. But how can it help you cope with the trauma of losing a loved one? In this article, I will share my personal story of how stoicism helped me overcome the grief of losing my father and find my purpose in life. 24th October 2017 ???? Six years ago, I began to learn the ways of the Stoics as a second-year philosophy student. I was trying to find my path between the calling of the Catholic Priesthood or the rich vocation of Matrimony. I was searching for a solid foundation on which to stand. As they say, “Life doesn’t happen to you; it happens for you.” Back then, I hadn’t fully analyzed the meaning of this saying. Armed only with a rudimentary understanding of Stoic philosophy, I set sail on my journey of self-discovery, where I realized that while you can’t control what happens to you, you can control your reactions to life’s events. This newfound wisdom led me to ponder the teachings of Stoicism, a philosophy that produced prominent figures like the great Emperor and author of “Meditations,” Marcus Aurelius. However, reflecting on everything around the demise of my father, I sadly acknowledge that my knowledge of Stoic philosophy was still shallow. I became so entangled in incoherent thoughts that I lost my way. My response to this excruciating event was overwhelmingly negative. It took a toll on my academic performance, and my life felt out of alignment. I was unprepared to live the philosophy I professed and loved. Thus, I became traumatized. Experiencing trauma is a normal reaction, but it was as if my mind was haunted by the incessant knocking of death. I became desensitized to the illusion of the grim reaper and was no longer afraid of death itself. My sole fear revolved around the well-being of my family, hoping none of them would experience the same fate. The true pain of my death, I realized, lay in the fact that those who loved me would miss me terribly. This insight made me acutely aware of the agony my mother would endure if she were to grieve my loss. My mother began having dreams, which she interpreted as signals of death lurking around us. These dreams heightened the anxiety that resided within me, and each time my phone rang, and her name appeared on the screen, my heart would skip a beat. I hesitated to answer, but I knew it was my mother, the woman who gave me my heart. I needed to check on her. I also dreaded seeing my younger brother’s tears. I silently prayed that his thoughts did not mirror my own. From 2017 to 2020, I felt like I was in a state of perpetual darkness, chased by an unseen shadow. I was scared of being alone, even when surrounded by friends. I couldn’t share my premonitions with my friends; it was a personal battle that I had to confront alone. They couldn’t fully understand me, as they were dealing with their own challenges, and I didn’t want to burden them with my struggles. I gnashed my teeth in silence when they were not around. In the midst of my doubt, I found inspiration in an unreleased song by J. Cole, “Show Me Something.” I refused to let my tears fall and instead sought understanding to clear my mind. I was lost, and I even fell into a mild state of atheism, questioning the role of God in my life. Modern philosophical thinking made me more skeptical of the supremacy of the supernatural over the mundane. My philosophical journey became a quest to find myself. In my final year, the rapper I mentioned earlier became an inspiration. In the depths of my doubt, I found myself praying, asking God for a sign to show me something, anything. I began connecting the dots in the lives of those I considered heroes, individuals who had changed the world. I realized that their life journeys followed a pattern, and I discovered that faith played a significant role. Their faith was not rooted in the known but in an assurance and conviction confirmed by the Unmoved Mover. What ultimately restored me was the same question that guided a great monk who lived an austere life, St. Bernard: “Why am I here?” In philosophy, we were taught to ask more questions than seek answers; questions were the Rosetta stone to life. I found my question, my “Eureka” moment. To combat the taunting presence of the grim reaper, I began asking why great individuals lived to a ripe old age or died fulfilled. The only answer I could find, after questioning and re-questioning, was “Purpose.” While I haven’t fully discovered my own purpose, I am on a relentless quest to ensure I live my life in the spirit of Gandhi: as if I will die tomorrow and learn as if I will live forever. I am growing up, Dad, and I hope you’d be proud of me.