It’s been a hell of a weekend.
On Sunday, I wrote The Price of Admission. I wanted to make it clear that this particular post wasn’t aimed at any one person or event. It was the culmination of several thoughts and conversations I have had over the past several weeks with people all over my life. And it was a good way to put my thoughts in order about something that is very important.
You see, I don’t give up on people. I am incapable of it. There are people I haven’t seen in 15 or 20 years, and if they dropped back into my life and said they needed me, I would be there for them. That’s who I am. I don’t know how to give up. I think part of that comes from being fairly stingy with my energy in the first place. It takes a lot for me to trust someone enough to let them into my heart, so if I’ve gone to the effort, and they are worth the effort, they become worth the effort for life.
So what happens when I see someone hurting, and I want to help, and it’s beyond my power or energies, and that price of admission starts creeping up?
I get lost. I don’t know what to do or how to help. My heart aches and I lash back at the person for not being who I want them to be. I worry and fret and I look for the perfect opening to have a conversation with them, to try to help. Because if they are that important, I don’t give up.
So, after I wrote Sunday’s post, I sat down and wrote an email to a very dear friend. And I told her how I was feeling and how much I missed her and how worried I was for her and how I wanted her to be better. I told her I was there for her, that I needed her in my life, but I needed the person she used to be, not the person she currently is. And, heart in my throat, I sent it off. And I’m glad I did… I feel better, and the friend in question is taking those first terrifying steps toward getting better.
I’m proud of her. It’s a hard journey. And I want her to know I am there for her, every step, and that I love her dearly and I am so glad to have her back again.