I’ll Show You Mine, If You Show Me Yours
June 16, 2016, 11:32 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I have been a selfish person.

Let me explain–



When you are, emotionally, in a position like myself; when you find yourself pulling your heart  out of your chest time and time again and using it as a beacon for your friends, your family, strangers you may never know…

When you find yourself constantly using your pain to help the pain of others…

You get used to it. The wall between embarrassment and bearing your soul becomes thin, easy to climb, crumbling.

And in that sharing, you are often met with echoes of your own emotions–your own fears, your own pain, your own healing.

You extend this little box out towards a person. The box holds the ugly things from your soul. “Here. Look. I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

Most of the time, the hurt souls, the wretches, the lost will gladly place their box next to yours. You pull item after item out of the boxes and find the similarities. You hold hands and mend simply in the power that is empathy.

But, what if you extend this box to someone; what if you show all of your dark places, your sadness, your self sabotages, and they don’t reciprocate?

What if I show you mine but you don’t show me yours?

What if you tell someone of your depression, your past, your terrible thoughts and they take these things in their hands and handle them carefully? They take what you’ve given them and made the load lighter. You feel lighter, happier, alive. Isn’t that all we can hope for, in our wretched states?

Then, as goes this dance, you ask them about their hearts.

” I am a safe place. Look, see, you still hold all of mine. Let me hold yours.”

They falter, they recoil, the push you away. All the while, holding your heart in their hands. “It’s nothing personal”, they say. They just don’t do that sort of thing.

You find yourself banging against a brick wall. It is futile; surely you can’t change anyone nor would you want to.

But it happens. There are people out there who are wonderful people, compassionate people, people who would do mostly anything to make sure you were happy and safe.

But they ignore their own self care. They let themselves deteriorate in a dark room with the door locked.

It happens all the time–mothers who are not yet ready to discuss or even face their postpartum issues, people who suffer from PTSD, anyone who is not yet ready to confront their monster. I don’t blame them; every time I open a blank page in this blog, I have to look at my monster dead straight in the eye. It’s terrifying.

But it’s hard to not take it personally. I do not think I am anyone superior. I do not think my words weigh heavily than anyone else’s. I do not think my story is more important than any that go unheard.

I cannot help but  feel as if I have failed as a tiny soul on this earth if my heart, my story, my hand being extended is not enough for someone else to follow suit.

People who think that they can keep swallowing their sadness will eventually find that the sadness has taken root deep inside of them. They will one day wake up, and they will be that sadness.

Breathing it out, like carbon monoxide, separates you from your problems.

At least, that’s what I apparently preach.

Sometimes people are not ready, they may never be ready.


What I’ve learned is

You can always be ready, just in case they suddenly are.



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