Ever sit back watching those around you and want to reach in and rearrange their life a little bit like it’s just some Ikea furniture you can shove around? This chair would look much better over here, and good heavens, why did you pick that color! I’m pretty sure this is called being a control freak. Not that I would know.
It’s always so easy from the outside looking in though. I shoot off criticism veiled as helpful advice like confetti:
She keeps latching onto the same mistake. Watch how she’ll go do it again.
I wish she could just learn to value herself. You can tell she doesn’t by what she keeps running back to.
That one’s afraid nothing as perfect will ever come along again so she just keeps hiding in memories.
Oh she’s just pretending to be someone else right now because being herself seems a little bit too difficult at the moment.
Don’t mind me calling it out from over here in my glass house. As if someone couldn’t look into my life and do the same damn thing. You totally want me to be your best friend right now don’t you? Form a line people.
While most people have chunks of calcium called vertebrae running down their back, I’m fused together with equal parts honesty and an ability to see through people for the most part. Sometimes this is good. Sometimes I hurt feelings. At the ripe age of twenty-two I like to think I’ve started to get a little better, holding my razor of a tongue, and waiting for friends to actually ask what I think. And then carefully stumbling my way through response, which is hopefully as loving as it is honest.
Maybe that’s why we need people who know our hearts as well as they know the latest stupid decision we’ve made. People who know when to sit back and let us trip and scrape our knees, and when to gently ask if we’re ready to hear some truth. Both have a time and place, but it sure is a dance learning what time it is with those we love.
After all, it’s hard to see, when you’re in the middle. The middle of realizing you’re trying to solve an old relationship through new versions of it. The middle of accepting the person you’ve loved with a passion didn’t actually treat you decent at all, and now you don’t know how to accept someone who does. The middle of learning to be brave enough to meet someone new, when you thought you had it figured out. The middle of accepting who you are, and learning it’s actually okay, or even better it’s good.
We’re all in the middle of something. Five steps ahead of each other or trailing behind. Seeking advice laced in love, or practicing compassion as the one who’s been there. Sometimes being both people in one day if we’re honest. We need to learn to give each other room to grow. Create spaces where it’s safe to fall down and limp for awhile. We need to let each other be human.