Nurture

Several persons whom I love dearly are at the moment dealing with issues of great weight – physically, emotionally and spiritually. I want to be for them what they have been for me, yet I feel I never measure up. I never know what to say. I do not provide the right kind of support. I am not a nurturer. I got stuck in a room listening to a radio sermon yesterday in which the preacher was talking about just this thing and about how the most important thing was just to be there. Just be there. It made sense, because that is what is most important to me about the ones I love. Just being with them. There’s reassurance and warmth and hope and just all kinds of gooeyness. Unless you are me and you make it awkward by trying way too hard (and if you are me, you will make it awkward).

The thing is, I am broke. My own deadbeat fault of course. No work = no money. Who knew? But I had my own shit to get through or I was just going to get stuck in that place of barely functionable for even longer. I have to take care of me before I can take care of anyone else. And I hadn’t been taking care of me. And I’m pissed at myself for it, but there’s no point kicking me anymore or I’ll never be able to get anything accomplished, I’d just lie there on the floor, crumpled from the blows to the abdomen.

And really, what’s the point in that?

Back to the original point of this ramble, which I have now forgotten because of something my little hippie friend Emily has named the “7-Second Rule” which has something to do with the amount of time you can pause after a tangent before the point of the original discussion is lost forever, but alas I have remembered:

To those I love and who love me- Please know that I am here. Always here. Maybe a little crazy and disorganized, but I am here. And in every way but physically, I am there.