Periodically, Herself jests about running away. She has been jokingly suggesting doing so within the past few days. I’ve been observing carefully, and this is the picture I see.
Herself is a nurturer. She loves to look after other people: the Offspring, her Beloved, her friends, her extended family. Anyone need anything? A muffin or another snack? A blanket? A hug? A good book? A listening ear or a shoulder to lean on? Moral support? Reassurance? Assistance in any form? She’s there in an instant. It is her privilege and her pleasure to be of help to you.
There are times, though, when number of the small pieces of Herself that she gives away, seem vastly to outnumber the pieces she receives in return.
With the Offspring, of course, she fully expects to be taken for granted most of the time - they are the children, she is their mother, they are entitled to her love, services and care without question, even if they do not give back in return.
Her Beloved is so very busy. She has spent a lot of time pining for his undivided attention, longing for him to have time for her. She does her best to wait patiently; she knows that if she is ever in full-on crisis mode, she can count on him to be there for her in a heartbeat, and that's what is important.
Every now and then, she feels as though she puts more effort into initiating conversations, providing hugs and support, and looking after her friends, than her friends do in return. She suspects her feelings in this matter are cranky and not truly accurate; they do talk to her, hug her, laugh with her, call and e-mail her. Nevertheless, tiny moments feed into her insecurities. For example, a few weeks ago, she spotted one of her friends, and got up to cross the room to move closer and say hello. Her friend motioned her to sit back down and came to sit next to her. Herself was inwardly shocked by the amount of gratitude she felt at having her friend take the initiative to approach and sit with her. But why should that be so surprising? Could it be the infrequency with which it happens? Perhaps.
One of Herself’s deepest fears, one that she has confessed only to her Beloved and to myself, is that if she pulls back from looking after other people, if she stops initiating conversations or interaction, or if she lessens her habitual nurturing, that others will not notice or care enough to step in and tend to their relationships with Herself. She will be left alone. She doesn’t have the strength to go through with the experiment of retreating just a bit, though, because in her darker moments she is truly afraid that she might find out that no one really does care. Yet some days, she is drained and yearns for a respite from caring for others.
And so, when she jokes about running away, it is because she is idly wondering who would come to look for her if she did.
It is an unhappy mental space that Herself occupies with these thoughts. I think she needs a long, solitary hike in the desert to restore the quiet within her and to help her refuel. That would facilitate her recovery from this mindset, so that she may resume her joyous nurturing of her loved ones. In the meanwhile, I will do what I can to remind everyone:
nurturers need nurturing too.
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