Blabbering Blatherskite

   I don't know what to do, so I am writing. I am laying bare every insecurity and weakness and in all likelihood it is a selfish act because as much as I want to believe that I am doing this to give myself therapy I feel there is a more sinister truth. To all who read this, you know how much you and I communicate. You know how close we actually are and you know if I am coming to you for help or if you are just the observer who wants to hear a sad story. I will do my best to present my depression in a way that makes for compelling reading and will keep you wanting to read because my sickness, my vanity, is that I need someone to notice me. I need someone to care about me. I have become painfully aware that there are societal norms that keep me from being a real friend to a lot of you. See, I'm married and as such I cannot care deeply about the sorrows of another woman. I don't understand this. There is one woman in particular, and god I hope you're reading this, who has had more tragedy in her life than any one person ever should have. A person who was hurt and violated and abused by an evil step father. A person whose church gave her "church discipline" when her mother divorced the monster. A woman who has tried in vane to find a home and someone to care about her. A woman who has had far more dark days than sunny ones and needs, NEEDS someone to stop and take her by the hand and look into her eyes and say "I notice you. I see you. I am so sorry for the evils that have befallen you and I want to show you that not everyone in this life will hurt you. I want to show you that I weep for your sorrows and I care very deeply about you as a person, a human being, a soul who does not need to give me anything in return. I want nothing from you except for you to see that in this life there are people who will love you and not ask you to prove it. Just be. Close the doors. Don't focus on what your yesterdays were or what your tomorrows might be. Simply experience today, this moment, for all of the beauty and potential that it holds. Life cannot be lived if you are in another part of it. You aren't in your past. You don't yet exist in your potential future. You are here and now and in this moment is the only real truth. Make this moment anything you want it to be,because you own it and I have looked at you, I have seen the inner you and I have full faith that you have something the rest of us only wish we had........", but I can't because there are people in this world who will say things and create problems and see something that isn't there and question my intent. How much good doesn't get done in this world because we are scared of what someone might say or how someone might interpret it? How many sad souls do we walk past when we have the power to lift them up, to give them the tools to make themselves better, all because societal norms and insecurities tell us that someone might think something or take it the wrong way? Still,how many times do we, with all good intentions, set out to show someone that we care about them, and those same societal norms and insecurities cause the person to question our intent? How many of you have wanted to say something to me but are worried about how it will come across? How many have said something and worry that it came across the wrong way? Let me make one thing clear. If you are reading this, I love you and have in some way noticed you and have made an effort to connect with you. I care about your sorrows. I want, need to show you that I want you to have the best possible of all good things. I want you to know peace, contentment, love, support, friendship. I want you to know that one of my deepest needs, an all consuming hunger for me is to look beyond the surface of people and see the soul inside your skin, the person you are, and tell you that you have an amazing value that no one can measure. Yes, you have been mistreated at times. Yes, people have been selfish with your emotions. Yes..... I have mistreated people and been selfish with their emotions and I have fallen more times than I care to admit, but I still care. This is my weakness. I want so badly for the sad to know love, to be appreciated, to know that someone else out there sees their worth and their inner beauty and CARES. But I will fail, and I will be judged, and I will balk at opportunities to let someone know what they need to know, because I want you to like me and I want you to trust me. I want to be the safe person that you know you can talk to and I will make of it only what is right, and safe, and pure. This is my weakness, my fault, my own particular insanity. No one can be what I want to be. More to the fact, I have recently discovered that I, well, let me put it this way. My sweet Willow. I loved going for walks with her and it thrilled me to my core when she would reach up and hold my hand, or my finger, and we would walk. I had a stability that she wasn't capable of, and she recognized that, and she clung to me. That was not enough though. In her clinging, in her reaching for support, she did not have the strength to hold on when she would stumble. If her support depended on her ability to hold herself up then she would fall. The difference was when I, with my big,strong hands, would grasp hers. When she was holding my hand my soul sang. When I was holding on to her, she had stability and she would not fall. There was someone who had the strength that she did not, who would not let her fall. I let her do everything she was capable of but she was not capable of everything. I saw the short comings, and I stood to fill in the gaps. I held her when, through no fault of her own, she could not stand. I am now the one who cannot stand. I have been desperately reaching out to hold on but the weight is more than I can bear. It is not my fault, I just do not have the strength to hold myself up. In turn, I cannot be for the people in my life what I want to be for them. We are stumbling, falling, weaker vessels who need someone or something stronger to hold on to. I am reaching out now, finally, at last saying that I can't hold on, and there is no shame in it. I have hands that reach out to me, to help me stand, but even in their best efforts they cannot be what I need. I don't yet know what that strength is, but I am surrendering to my own frailty. It feels good to stop fighting. One day, it will feel good again to stand.