Hand-carved Daggers, and Achilles Heels

 A bit of vagueness ahoy. 

Those who know me well, or have spent time reading here, know that I have abandonment issues. (For purposes of this conversation, let's call them The Issues.) It's not a secret, really. I acknowledge The Issues honestly with certain people very close to me, and have even pointed them out openly (though carefully) when specific situations have arisen in which I wanted to explain that I was feeling a particular way because of The Issues. 

I've been doing better in handling them. I know The Issues are around, so I know to be aware of them and take remedial action with regard to my feelings and actions when they make an appearance.

And then there was a test -- and I passed, and I didn't know I'd passed, until later.

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I while ago had a conversation with someone meaningful to me, who told me they'd been deliberately distancing themselves. And my biggest concern in the immediate moment, was the reasons why they had been distancing. I focused on the person's concerns and needs, and on finding some kind of path forward.  

I did not, however, panic about what -- lightbulb moment, an eternity later -- looks like a hand-carved dagger, specifically designed to target my most vulnerable spot: abandonment. 

Deliberate distance. Withdrawal. Abandonment. 

What was once my worst fear, come to life, there in person. 

And it passed me by, with hardly a blip on my radar. 

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I once thought the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, would be another person choosing to step away from me. And when that moment finally came, it was terrible, yes, but it was no worse than anything else.  I still needed to address the situation, to remedy what I could, to accept what I could not change, to move forward however possible. And I did, and I am still whole, and I am still me. 

What was once my Achilles Heel, is no more. 

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I don't know if I am glad for myself, that The Issues are not as terrible as they once were; or if I should be concerned, in that it seems that my soul on some level feels that abandonment is inevitable (and therefore not to be feared). Perhaps I am a little sad, though. I would like some promise from the Universe that someone will always be there for me -- but the Universe cannot make that Promise. 

What I can do, though, is promise my Important People that as long as I am able, I will be there for them, when they need company. 

That's my promise to you.