The caretaker/peacemaker in me is struggling with holding the tension, leaving it unresolved. I am glad for the breakthroughs, but instantly wonder where I faltered. Look to the places where someone else may be struggling, may need a next step. Want to do it all, without seeing I am but a part.
It’s my own version of staying busy, of not paying attention to my stuff. Of care taking others to resolve my inner anxiety.
When things “aren’t working,” (meaning they are in progress), I blame myself and try my best to control –think through every option, plan plan plan, and FIX the system, make the connection for them.
And yet, I know it isn’t genuine help. What are you learning I ask? What has sunk in? What are you ready for?
They fall back into old self-protective patterns, I remind myself they are doing what they need to do (at this time), and when they are ready, they will make the next step.
Just as I remind them, hey, I know your heart, if you need to hate someone hate them, and I promise you it won’t last one second longer than you need it to.
I assume too much. Presume I know them, understand them, are connected.
Meanwhile, I sit in my isolation, my loneliness, my own depths of discomfort.
Or veg out, play computer games for 8 hours straight, binge watch a season, scroll through Instagram and facebook without connecting.
I wait for others to show their appreciation, or send them memes when I can’t fathom connecting. Can’t muster the compassion, or the depth of my true feelings, couldn’t possibly be as vulnerable as I ask these kids to be each and every day.
I am stirred, and then shut down, when friends respond. I wait till the next day. I am a turtle. I wait for the sunlight to leave my shell, and the sun has not shown in days.
I penguin walk back and forth between considering this a problem to be solved, and just accepting it. Somehow I feel like I am making progress forward between the waddle.
Is it just the way I am? Or is it something to consider changing? Haven’t I been considering this my entire life. What would happen either way?
And what would I add, if I subtracted this layer of anxiety/serving.
Who would see me, hear me, acknowledge me,
What would I even be? Free? Me?
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