I don't know when worry and fear and dreadful anticipation became my go-to for every situation, event, or obligation. Surely that kind of grueling slog through the days cannot possibly be our default setting. So that means we learned it along the way or taught it to ourselves for one reason or another. I think for me, it was the latter.
I'm not sure when or why, but I think--like so many of us struggling with these issues--I have an outsized sense of responsibility. You know? Are you with me? It's hard to remember the 'not my circus, not my monkeys' truth that is most of what happens around us in life. It's a confusion of compassion and empathy for responsibility. Perhaps this is the case for those of us with a less-developed emotional vocabulary. Perhaps we feel something stir in our heart, in our soul, and immediately assume we're responsible for that being.
You know, maybe that's a learned distinction for some of us--that love can be love without the burden of responsibility. We've set the expectations too high--no one can be responsible for everyone and everything that moves them. My god--we'd drop from exhaustion by 30.
So maybe we can let go a little. Or, let's face it, a lot. Maybe we can finally just wrap our arms around this one body, this one frightened little being and, for once, tell the truth--nothing is that important and everything, finally, is going to be okay.