About a year ago, the balance of my life shifted–I went from a woman who could dysfunctionally cope with everything life was throwing at her, to a woman whose coping mechanisms no longer worked.
I was in need.
In need of someone to help me. Guide me. Hold me. Care for me. Love me.
Over the last year, I have also started to realize that, apart from my own children, who regularly need me and who I love, I continue to be that person in need, but rarely that person who is needed.
Yes, I have friends. Friends who care and friends who love me. But none of these friends seem to need me the way I need them. They are loved and supported by others. I feel like I am floating, alone, in a vast ocean with occasional visitors. Those visitors make me feel immensely better when they are there, but the problem is…they aren’t always there.
Yes, I have a marriage. I have a husband who will love me, hold me, and care for me. But only when I make my needs known. Only if I ask for it. And, sometimes, frankly, I do not have the energy to ask for it. I do not have the strength to have to talk about it all, or hear “solutions” to my problems–when all I need is to be held and allowed to cry. He helps me feel better–but only if I ask.
Yes, I have an amazing counselor who has guided me and helped me over the last year. But that relationship has to remain professional so, obviously, my need is my own. When therapy is over, I will need to know how to guide and help myself. And that can be a scary thought.
There are days where I find myself back in the dark, muddy hole. Days where I look up for the light and it is so far away.
Days where my heart aches and I cry, simply wanting to be needed by someone the way that I need another person.
I hope, someday, that day will come. But…maybe it never will. Maybe this is just life, a moment in time where pain is felt loudly. Where the spotlight shines brightly on my loneliness and need.
Or, maybe, my need will change over time.
For now, I allow myself to hurt. To cry. To ache.