I don’t regret the tears I had to shed to someone who is loudly crying in front of me. I don’t regret the time that I had to lose because someone is asking me to spend extra hours with them. I don’t regret the moments that I spent listening to their scattered thoughts. I don’t regret giving my energy to people who want me to cheer them on. I don’t regret allowing them to use me whenever they find me useful in some situations. I don’t regret giving myself freely to people who didn’t bother to ask if I am okay with what is left in me.
I admit, that I find happiness in every way that I can help. For me, it’s a different level of satisfaction, being able to help without them knowing that I needed that help, too.
But maybe, I am someone that comes into their mind when they needed rescue, maybe I am someone’s 911 or emergency contact person when their world is starting to tear up. Maybe I am someone’s hero when they lacked self-help.
And I honestly don’t regret being present at all those. I don’t regret being the person who is always available in someone else’s inconvenience even if that would mean that I need to be inconvenient wandering home alone.
Cry alone.
Sleep alone.
And be alone.
What I regret is thinking that if one day would the table turns, I have my people who would free their time for me. What I regret is believing that one day, would my world be messy and heavy I would have that someone who undoubtedly offers their extra shoulder to carry what is unbearable for me. I regret being so delighted that if one day should I find myself in those situations I have my version of 911.
But I didn’t have.
I don’t know who will receive my call when I ring their phone at 4 AM because I can not sleep. I don’t have a name to call on when I needed salvation. I regret being so sure that I can receive the same amount of kindness and love that I gave, or just receiving a small amount of it.
I regret plummeting from my own trap, maybe I should have reminded myself that not everyone is going to do what I have done, or at least show a tiny amount of effort that would somehow make me believe that I am being reciprocated.
But I loved them so much that I forgot that I needed that kind of love too. I loved them too much, that I was left with too little to love myself too.
Maybe the reason for being too available for someone is because I don’t want them to feel that no one is available for them when they needed just one person to keep them together. For I know how dark and how quiet that place would be.
Or maybe, just maybe, my heart is created differently.
The beginning of acceptance 