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This is Not About Me, It’s About You

It’s not about me, it’s about you. I want too many things, I need too much, too often, and at once. What is too much anyway? The only things that are too much are quantifiable. Like when you pour a liquid into a cup and it overflows, or when you’re told to only write a 10-page paper and you write a 37 page one. Those are things that have numbers and we are able to understand their ability to overflow or be “too much.” That’s the kind of thing that goes overboard.

With people, it isn’t about an objective “too much” or excess. It’s about what another person can handle. Maybe they’re at a point in their lives when they can’t be involved in anything serious. Perhaps the person isn’t able to cope with intense emotions because they are a passionate feeling person. When you’re already a passionate person and you engage with another intense individual emotional explosions are bound to happen. This is where the potential for volatile relationships can occur. Fire and fire together breed a stronger vibrant fire and that’s what happens with the intensity of two people who feel deeply.

It’s not about me, it’s about you. You might not be able to give me what I need because you don’t have it. My darkness isn’t your responsibility but rather it’s mine. Yes, you can hold me, comfort me, tell me to breathe and stay strong. You can remind me of my fortitude and ability to conquer things, but you can’t save me. I’m starting to believe that we can’t even save ourselves. We’re all a little bit broken and those parts don’t need saving, they need love, nurturing, understanding and compassion.

We don’t need to be glued back together, we need to be listened to. There is power in being silent and hearing someone, actually listening to them and what they need.

When you need support from other people, that need, that want, that desire can feel overwhelmingly strong; so strong that it’s likened to the need for food or water. The vacancy within yourself causes you to seek to fill that void somewhere else with someone else. That void cannot be filled by someone else. It might feel like they’ve satisfied it for a moment, a day, an hour, a minute, but it isn’t a permanent solution. It is only a temporary measure to fix a deeper problem. You are putting sand into a bucket with a hole, but you can’t see the hole. The hole is so small that it feels like it’s not even there.

It’s not about me, it’s about you. It is about what I want from you but as much as you want to fix it, repair me, that’s not possible. I don’t need to be put back together by you or anyone. I am working on accepting my broken parts and loving them. I see them as a valid part of me and working on nurturing who they are. They didn’t ask to break, they were broken without their consent. Don’t blame them. Love them instead.