I'm so excited to be guest posting at Southern Momentum today. Come check out my views on Father's Day.
Now on to today's rant...
Is that what I have become to the people in my life?
My friend in Cincinnati seems to think that. He actually called me a “distraction” yesterday when he text me to talk about a tough situation he is currently in. I was pissed at that comment and haven’t replied to him since. I’m also in the middle of another situation in my life where I am beginning to feel like a distraction of sorts.
Why is it that people always seem to use me for my emotional support and then spit me out when they are through with their crisis? Why is it that I always seem to be the rescurer of all? A life preserver of sorts? And while I am spending my time picking them up, dressing their wounds, and being someone they can count on, I can’t seem to keep my own head above water when it comes to my own life?
You see, I have always been this way. It’s a trait I get from my dad. Ever since I can remember, my dad was always a caregiver. He was a natural when it came to taking care of people, whether they be sick, stranded, or in tough situations. He was always there with open arms, no expectations, no acknowledgement necessary, he is just always glad to help out.
When his parents were sick, he was constantly by their bedside caring for them. When my mom was sick he dropped everything and took care of her until the day she died. When my ex walked out on our family, he was ringing the doorbell waiting to pick up the pieces. He’s just cool like that.
I LOVE this trait in my dad.
I HATE this trait in me.
Like I said, I get it honestly. In fact, it’s a quality I hope my kids get. I see it a little bit in Hamilton, my oldest. Gibson is still too young to know any different. There is nothing a mother of boys could want more than to raise a caring, compassionate son who steps up to the plate when needed. No ifs ands or buts. My grandma, my dad’s mom, I’m sure was proud of the son she raised in my dad, but just in case she wasn’t before her passing, she would definitely be proud of him now.
The problem with this quality is that the “caregiver” is usually the one who gets hurt in the end. Whether it be the person they are helping dies, or gets what they need and moves on. Either way, it just doesn’t seem fair.
This is where I get frustrated with men in my life.
You see, I’m the kind of girl that doesn’t like to see anyone hurting. So when someone comes into my life that is hurting, I tend to want to drop everything and help, be a support and pick up the pieces for them. I want to do whatever is necessary to make that person feel better and stop hurting, no matter what it may do to me in the meantime. I can’t help it, I’m just that way. I know that is how God created me to live.
And I’m ok with that.
But I ask this question…why does it always feel like I get burned in the end? These men get what they need and gradually stop calling…gradually stop needing me…gradually stop communicating until they eventually fall off the radar and I am left to pick up the pieces of a broken heart. Not necessarily a broken heart in the love sense, but in the sense of the reality of knowing that I don’t have that person in my life to help me pick up my pieces when times get tough for me.
So it begs the question, who do I turn to? Who is my caregiver, the person that will drop everything for me? That’s one of the reasons I loved being married…I was always guaranteed to have that someone to wrap me up in a big bear hug and tell me that everything was going to be ok. That’s all I need, but I can’t seem to get that. Sure, they all say they will be that person…but the reality of it is…they don’t and if they do, it’s usually too late.
I know this is a good quality to have, but I hate that I have it.
That’s a very selfish statement, I know.
But it is what it is and I can’t help the way I feel.
Heck, I’m owning my selfishness and moving on…at least with me, you know where you stand!