Becoming

To become. Become what? Successful, wise, a mother, a writer, a wife, happy, healthy…

There is so much to become that sometimes I forget to Be. 

I know how to become.

What you want.
What you need.
Your savior.
Your trusty companion.
Your emotional sponge.
Your caretaker.
Your therapist.

I have become a master. A master at knowing how to tiptoe around your sadness, your anger, your fear, your emotions, your schedule, your triggers, your…everything.

I become you so I don’t have to be me. Don’t have to feel the ache in me. ‘Cause it’s easier to try and fix the ache in you.

I believe this is what the “experts” call enmeshment. Blurring the lines between me and you until I can’t tell if my feelings are mine or yours.

To become one instead of two.

But honestly, that’s not what I want. Maybe it was 20 years ago, but not now. I actually want to feel. To be me.
To embody myself.

Because it’s literally impossible to embody another human. I M P O S S I B L E.

Eleven years of therapy, 2 years of recovery, countless yoga sessions, bodywork, a divorce, and many, many hard conversations and still…
still, becoming you seems better than being me.

Or, it did.

I am beginning to let the void expand. Just enough. Just long enough to realize that I don’t love me (so I need you to love me to feel worthy).

I am attached–to every word, every look, every movement, every breath of yours as if it were my own. And the moment any of those change, I question.

Did I do something?
Am I OK?
How can I fix it?
Is something wrong?
Are they sick of me?
Are they leaving?

I didn’t become enough to be loved.

My friend and I were talking last night about the way the world demands more of us as humans. And shit…how much more can we possibly become?

I thought, maybe it’s not really about how much more I can become, but how much I can Be.

Be what I’ve always been: lovable and worthy.

If I spent as many hours Being Me instead of trying to become you, what would happen? 

If I let my energy emanate instead of assimilate.

If, instead of a void to be filled, I saw space to grow.