On New Years Eve I was contacted by someone I had quite deliberately stepped away from. We had an intense friendship, and in one flash, I realized that it was intense because I was putting so much work into it, and it would always carry this dynamic, and it would never carry me.
In that flash, I lost every bit of intuition and hyper empathy I had. I felt it slink out of my cells, into the ground. I felt my eyes open. I can’t say that in that moment I learned to be kind to myself, but at least I had the first inkling of a self-protective boundary.
The contact came with enough vagueness that even while I strongly wanted to ignore it, that librarian urge to complete a question ran me over. Somehow my following up meant I was “such a little spark plug.”
No. If I know one thing, it’s that I am not here to fix you. My energy is not for you. I need it. I have a lot to repair. I listed it for you in a flat tone. I don’t think you listened. That’s okay. I’m not repeating this.