I am an empath. Which is nice because I find that I connect with people easily. It's horrible because human interaction can be both beautiful and deeply painful.
I have mentioned my mother's boyfriend. I hate that word because it doesn't really capture the full extent of their devotion. They are partners, essentially, but that is such a loaded word. They're in love, they're devoted.
He's under the weather, and as I write this, we're at an Urgent Care while he fills out a sheaf of forms. His son, who lives in the city, is en route. My best guess is bronchitis, but if you're 81, you don't fuck around with that shit, right?
Mom is at work. My sister and nephew are getting ready to head to the cabin. And with my defacto stepbrother en route, I'm "in charge-ish". For now.
When I was in middle school, we had this reading specialist teacher, Mrs. Heller. She had a poster on her door that read, "Sometimes caring hurts. But not as much as not caring."
I'm not so sure that's true. I care. I care a lot. And sometimes, I think I would be best off of if I gave zero fucks. But I do. And sick family is sick family. And as it turns out, he's family. That's not a bad thing.
I think that your heart can and will break, and there will be holes where things are missing. Those holes may fill in a little, but they never go away. But your heart can expand, and it does, and you make space for more love, and more heartbreak, and different holes.
The idea of a swiss cheese heart sounds terrible, I know. But it's not.
There's a Simon and Garfunkel lyric "If I never loved, I never would have cried".
Give me the hole-ridden heart and the tears. I can take it.
But keep the Kleenex near. And some ham and rye bread.
ae
I have mentioned my mother's boyfriend. I hate that word because it doesn't really capture the full extent of their devotion. They are partners, essentially, but that is such a loaded word. They're in love, they're devoted.
He's under the weather, and as I write this, we're at an Urgent Care while he fills out a sheaf of forms. His son, who lives in the city, is en route. My best guess is bronchitis, but if you're 81, you don't fuck around with that shit, right?
Mom is at work. My sister and nephew are getting ready to head to the cabin. And with my defacto stepbrother en route, I'm "in charge-ish". For now.
When I was in middle school, we had this reading specialist teacher, Mrs. Heller. She had a poster on her door that read, "Sometimes caring hurts. But not as much as not caring."
I'm not so sure that's true. I care. I care a lot. And sometimes, I think I would be best off of if I gave zero fucks. But I do. And sick family is sick family. And as it turns out, he's family. That's not a bad thing.
I think that your heart can and will break, and there will be holes where things are missing. Those holes may fill in a little, but they never go away. But your heart can expand, and it does, and you make space for more love, and more heartbreak, and different holes.
The idea of a swiss cheese heart sounds terrible, I know. But it's not.
There's a Simon and Garfunkel lyric "If I never loved, I never would have cried".
Give me the hole-ridden heart and the tears. I can take it.
But keep the Kleenex near. And some ham and rye bread.
ae
Comments
Thanks for letting me know I'm not the only one.
I know you know this but I'm sharing it anyway because I care and I hope it's a source of comfort.