There are some things you don’t understand about people like me. You don’t always understand what it feels like to care too much, to love too hard, to give until the cup is not only dry, but dry rotted. Sometimes you don't understand that when your (my) heart is so big and so full of life and love, that it is so much easier to get stepped on, used, ripped, rung out to dry after cleaning up someone else’s emotional mess. What you may fail to realize is the emotional toll that having a heart like mine carries. What you don’t understand is I am a 100% giver. I give and give and give, whether my cup is being filled back up or not because I enjoy giving! I enjoy giving my big heart to someone and letting them do what they want with it. I don’t know how to love any other way or any less. I will hunt down the moon and bring it to your back window if I love you and that is what you want. When I love I love HARD, 110%, there is nothing less to be expected or given! But on the other side of that, I have to carry the emotional scars, burdens, and heart breaks. I sit like a dog licking her wounds everytime my heart gets stepped on, or my cup is so dry I can’t even give into myself anymore, but as soon as the bandage falls off the wounds and I somehow get a few drops of hope into the bucket, I will go right back to giving until it all falls apart again.
You would think I would learn my lesson. You would think I would take all the scars, experiences, heart aches, betrayals, tears and tissues and turn this ship around. Harden up my heart, create bigger walls, be an asshole to everyone, never trust anyone new, but for some reason, I can’t seem to do that. I get so mad at myself for letting myself be vulnerable. I get so mad at myself for caring so much. I get mad at myself for falling in love with new ideas, or people, or experiences. Why do I care so much, when I rarely ever receive the love, attention, or respect that I give, back into my tank. I wish I could tell myself to just drop all this emotional baggage down, be a hard ass and never give two-f***s about anyone or anything else, but I can’t. Believe me, it is not because I haven’t tried. I just physically cannot stop caring, loving, giving, filling, helping, etc the ones that I (or my too big heart) decide to love.
I am sure that the big A(nxiety) has some roles to play in this; it definitely intensifies the feelings of betrayal, confusion, or how to interpret others, but it is not a result of anxiety. Anxiety may be a side effect of having such a giving, big heart that always seems to be the best stomping ground for others.
People who care too much also grieve differently. I can’t share what it is like for ALL of us, but for me and the other few people close to me that have the big hearts and the big A, we suppress it ALL. We take very few moments to confide in the few like us that, internally, we are completely coming unglued, but on that surface, we are tough as nails, taking life by the horns and taking care of one thing at a time like it is nothing. We get through any and everything because we do what has to be done, no matter what. We put any and all things on the back burner and take nothing else into account but what needs to be done, and of course, no one can do it better than we can, or no one else should be inconvenienced, or no one should have to take the burden alone. We can handle it… at the expense of our mental health, energy, and positive vibes. It may take us years to recover and get over the grief inside we pin up while we are surviving through the shit, but we will handle it.
I always take bad news with a “let’s kick this thing’s ass” attitude and then I go into denial once the new has worn off of the news. I go into seclusion. I go into complete avoidance. In my past I have gone into binge eating or starving, now I exercise excessively then emotionally eat on occasion. I have learned that food does not make it better, it only makes me feel worse about myself, and honestly, that doesn’t take very much, so I try to avoid that one now. The excessive exercise, oh it helps (right?), until it doesn’t… then it hurts and makes everything worse because there is no outlet to run away from the grief stricken Brain Demon that is now attacking you like Godzilla on the Empire State Building.
In less than 2 years time, I have had several devastating blows that have taken their emotional toll but I cannot figure out how to grieve them. I can't “unsuppress” them, they won’t come out of hiding. They stay tucked and buried deep inside the closet… until the Brain Demon goes into spring cleaning mode. Then all the feelings come rushing back, just like I am back to the same day they all happened. I am right back into devastation, the soul crushing feeling comes back over me, and I begin the process all over again. As I sit in my empty, sometimes overwhelming lonely, house and drink the first glass of wine I have had in a great while, I start the grieving process again. This time a new, fresh wound that will never completely heal.
I’ve never been afraid of dying. I’m scared of dying like a painfully, tragic death, but actually dying does not scare me; I am secure in what I believe happens when you die and I am perfectly okay with that. What does scare me more than anything is watching death. I have sat in the same room with death more than any one person should in the past 2 years. I have watched the ones I love the most wither away and watched death as it picked up the last of their spirits and whisked them away…. It is dreadfully painful…. And relieving…. Lovingly praying for people to die is the worse prayer that I never wish on anyone. I spent many hours praying that suffering would end, that I, selfishly, wouldn’t have to continue watching the suffering or carnage happening to my family.
I think some people grieve normally. They are in disbelief, sad, mad, denial, and acceptance (or whatever that model says) but I don’t think people like me ever do that. I don’t think we ever complete the process. Life gets so busy and the big heart moves onto the next project that needs our love, or fixing, or 100% pouring, that we never stop to let ourselves mourn our loss. We never stop to assess the pain, we never give ourselves time to heal and learn how to manage our life normally again. We just sweep up the millions of pieces of our hearts from the last project, put them in our pockets, and slowly tape them back together in our free time.
I say all that to say, be fragile friends. You never know what the person beside you is going through and how they handle it. I can smile and laugh at and with you all day and go home to stain my pillow with mascara tears. I can sit at my lonely ass table and cry all by myself with nowhere to turn, but when you need someone, you will never sit at your table alone as long as I know you need someone.
Our Story ;sn’t Over
P<3