Because I don’t suck.
If you are hurting, I will listen to you. I am not perfect and sometimes, wait to talk, but mostly, I will listen. If you need encouragement, I will be your cheerleader.
I like who I am.
It has taken decades for me to be able to say that and not be lying.
I want to help. I want to be part of the solution. Sometimes, I pull up short. I’ve had my nose skinned and have reached out in ways that were awkward. But I reached out.
I fail, I learn, and I try. I feel defensive sometimes, and sometimes feel lost. But I try.
I genuinely care. I am a good shoulder to cry on.
I have wells of strength deeper than the holes I dug in my back yard when I tried to dig to China using just a table spoon. Don’t scoff. I worked on it an entire summer and by the time I was done, the hole was over my head.
So why do I have to feel so scared and so goddamn alone when my anxiety is fucking with me?
Don’t be shocked, because I know I haven’t talked about this much, but my anxiety has been making my prescription go from a crutch I keep in my purse to actually using it. Also, we need a sarcasm font.
Also, and bear with me please because I just took a hard left. I just realized, this very minute, how necessary it is for me to work toward not being part of the goddamn problem. I have a prescription for anxiety medicine because my brain is sometimes sick and makes it hard to function. My anxiety medicine is not a crutch. I don’t need crutches. My legs aren’t broken. My brain just makes life hard sometimes. This is me. This is a lot of people. Bear with me, I am a work in progress.
Anyway, my point is, I am a good person to have around if you are in pain. I will do anything I can to soothe you.
Why can’t I do this for myself?
I am literally right here.