Flaws like stars

My flaws and weaknesses are more numerous than grains of sand, and like the stars, God knows them all by name.

To not be able to think of a weakness denies one the chance for self-improvement, I believe, which means that life is as good as it will ever get, that we're as good as we'll ever get. And that’s a depressing thought. But what happens when the thing you’d like to improve upon benefits yourself and not others?

You see, I have a hard time telling people ”no,” denying them my time, my energy, because the guilt I feel when I’m not available for someone has, up until very recent years, outweighed any sense of self-preservation. And I am tired. This is my weakness, wanting to help at all cost, not reserving any energy for all the things that I’m personally going through, which leaves me broken, battered, and lying on the floor. My flaw is accepting less from people than what I give. I expect more and end up disappointed. Or maybe my flaw is not sharing of myself as easily as others seem to. Maybe if I forced my opinions, suggestions, stories, issues on others as easily as they force them upon me, well, maybe I’d be in a healthier position. But that’s not me. I assume that if you care, you’ll ask. If you care, you won’t interrupt.

I am empathetic, which means people tend to trust me with their stories, often with stories nearest their heart. And this, this is a strength. I gain so much from these interactions. I gain trust and friendship and so much insight into this wonderful, amazing mess called humanity. And I’m honored. Unfortunately, this also means that people will trust me with every single issue they have. But I can get selfish and angry; like when a girl (who didn’t even like me) non-drunkenly cried on my shoulder in a bar because of something going on with her dad and all I wanted to do was run. It was during my ex’s first deployment. I was having a hard time. I had just recently found out he had a second kid he’d neglected to tell me about. (That’s an entirely different tale.) I wanted to dance and laugh and forget with my friends, but instead, I was stuck comforting someone who I KNEW didn’t like me, and yet I still, to this day, feel awful about trying to get away from that situation as quickly as I could so I could enjoy my night. Selfish. I’m a terrible person. Guilty.

But what I’ve come to realize is that I can work on finding a balance. I’ll never not feel guilty for turning away from near strangers or even enemies who need my help, but I can better serve those who truly mean something in my life if I am more emotionally well-rested, for myself and for them.

Maybe I’ll take a lesson from the stars. Maybe I’ll just be, for myself, and hopefully, people can still take comfort from that.

"Stars are not small or gentle.
They are writhing and dying and burning.
They are not here to be pretty.
I am trying to learn from them."

- Caitlyn Siehl