I don't know where I developed this need to be able to handle everything, everyone, every situation, never to disappoint, let down, forget, screw up, or, basically, be a human animal in this world.
I was certainly always given grace and support and space in my family. So, maybe it's just a Western thing? An osmosis-don't-drink-the-Kool-Aid type thing?
I've sat so long with my anxiety and here, here's what it's finally taught me (and it was worth the price of admission, let me tell you): I don't *have* to do it all. I don't *have* to worry that taking care of myself is an act of pure, bloody-minded selfishness. I don't have to worry that taking my hand off of the handle which spins my own little globe (to paraphrase the wise Liz Gilbert) will cause it to careen to a screeching halt, bumping up, domino-style (or, better yet: 405-Freeway-10-car-pile-up-style), against everyone else's little globes.
We've got padding, baby--orbits and space and galaxies between us. Luckily, they're transversable, but equally luckily, they're sheltering and (thank Ganesh for this), they're separate. Separate! In the end, we're only responsible for keeping homeostasis on our own little patch of earth--for ourselves, first, for our visitors, second.
We are the caretakers, and caretakers need a break. The world will keep spinning, which provides, don't you know, a stellar view. I think it's time to take a breath and watch the stars come out.