The story details are private, and oddly, beside the point. (Good to notice!)
But the feelings? The thoughts? The help? Maybe there’s a kernel of something for you in this too.
The sadness seems endless. It’s a kind of desolation. A sense of being beyond-help. I don’t know where to go next with any of this, which touches on regrets, fears, longing, shame, all the stupid things I’ve ever done, all the craziness and drama, every nightmare and cold-sweat-daymare that ever pounded in my chest…
I’ve come a long way but something like this has me saying: “for what?” Or, “have you really?”
So yeah. Big. And hard.
In all this I’m writing to B, someone I know can hear it all without freaking out. And I’m still writing the email when something starts writing back to me.
No, it’s not B. And no, it’s not some entity or being out there because, well, I just don’t roll that way. Not that there aren’t angels and groovy beings and all that—who knows!—but I’ll leave that to others, and to stories and movies. But still, something started writing back. And here’s what it said:
Just be with it.
To which I said:
But but but
And so it went…
Just be with it, sweetheart.
But it’s been so long—as in my whole life—unhealed, not understood, not able to move forward or away. And stuck. And I’ve tried so hard. I’m scared.
Just be with it all, sweetheart. Don’t do anything other than be with it. That’s the only thing to do right now.
But I can’t.
Be with the part that can’t be with it too.
But I can’t.
Be with that too. That’s all you have to do, love. That’s all. Be with it all. Hold the space to allow it all to be, fully, in all its desolation. Fully, in all its confusion. Fully, in all its shame. Fully, in all its longing. Fully, in all its hope. Fully, in all its crushed hope. Fully, in all of its all of it. No part left out, no part left behind. You are big enough, I promise.
But the parts of me, they can’t stand one another and they push and pull and they hide from one another and they can’t stand being in the same room with each other and it’s all happening inside of me.
Be the house that has room for them all. And keep noticing. Keep noticing you.
But what about me, who will take care of me?
Oh sweet love, you will.
But I can’t.
Be with the one who doesn’t think she can take care of you, too. She needs you.
But what about me?
You are the one, sweetheart. You are the one.
I can’t bear it.
You are the one saying you can’t bear it and you are the one bearing it. You are the one praying and you are the one listening.
But I need someone else.
I am here, love. I am here. I am here for you. C’mere sweetheart. There there, shhhh, it’s OK. There there. It’s OK. I am here.
But you are me! No fair tricking me like that.
It’s only a trick if you say so. And still, I am here. Right here.
Oh and one more thing? Go for a walk.