All Things

I've had a few people repeat the same phrase to me in quick succession, and it's politely but firmly refusing to be ignored. 

"You cannot be all things to all people." 

A couple folks have used the exact same phrasing, a few others have offered up the same spirit.  Clearly, if I need the same reminder, something is up. 

I cannot be all things to all people.

I want to be everywhere.  I want to say yes to most every invitation.  I have a number of people that I want to catch up with that likely only require one text to start the cascade.  I want to reach out to people that I know need to be reminded that they are well thought of.  I want to invite myself over to visit people that have left me an open door. 

I also need to balance my own goals and needs.  I find myself overwhelmed by balancing these pieces alone, when even my Netflix queue feels judgmental, as though I haven't even consumed enough leisure and turning that into a chore, too. 

Sometimes, my priorities are obvious.  I took an impromptu trip to Chicago last week because being present is infinitely important in the right context--there was no question of my making this particular trip, just the logistics.  Other times, my body makes biological needs profoundly clear, at least when I have enough wherewithal to ask the question.  On the big things, I tend to know the answer, though there can be a process in then talking myself into the answer I already know (e.g. quieting the survival voices enough to consider the emotional costs more accurately).  Other times, I need a sounding board or to wait until I can process the question.  And the little things, well, I would say that I have a lot of anxiety about what little things are actually big things and have a bit of a freeze response, in addition to the general kind of freeze from the sheer number of little things. 

I want to be there for those I love, to listen, support, or whatever else is needed.  I want to be present in more places.  Everyone has their own set of challenges that they face and kindness makes a world of difference.  I acknowledge that I can't be everywhere--and I'm not even wanted everywhere--but that desire to be present is still pressing.

Also, I have a very real fear of missing out.  In coping with my illness, there are things I have had to turn down and pieces that I missed out on and many, many times the conversation keeps happening just on the other side of the bathroom door, without me.  I want to make up for all the lost time, the relationships I've lost when I couldn't be present anymore, and other related pieces that I cannot put a name on.  Declining an invitation twinges that grief and anger in ways that are an uncomfortable kind of familiar.  And I want to compensate for time and experiences lost. 

These feelings rise up every so often.  When I'm feeling down, I want to ask myself why I'm not doing more for those I care about, falling into a shame cycle.  My self esteem is not normally tied to the perceived use I am to others, but part of this wave seems to drive it to the forefront.  I forget that my needs are also part of the needs of the group, sometimes leading to a particular kind of neglect even in the name of meeting the emotional need of "not missing out."  Ironically, when I do something for a friend, I can find myself more frustrated that I don't do X or Y more often or for these other friends, too; it's almost like refractory period of a heartbeat, a low space where the heart cannot electrically stimulate and all the ion channels are open, until pieces can reset once more to fire, stimulate, and contract again. 

Logically, I know that the following are true and accept them:

• I have a finite amount of energy
• I cannot make all people happy--I will inevitably let people down
• I cannot be in all places
• I will still want to deny all of these

I very much struggle to give myself the same compassion that I would readily give anyone else.  And again, it's not logical and it is decidedly cyclical.  I just needed to name the cliff for a moment today.  Rather than fight the wave and choke on the seawater, I'm going to bodysurf for a moment or two once again and let the wave make its way through.  It usual does in a day or two.  I'm still growing in my capacity to be compassionate to myself:  I aim give myself the time and space to feel what I need to feel, think about where I might want to redirect or follow up on, and take the opportunity to listen to myself again for the answers I already know.