I have always considered myself to be a giver. It started way back when. You can ask my mother. I came home from school without my sweater, my hairbows, my winter coat, my new binder; I gave my stuff to another child that seemed to be in need in my eyes. It became a life long habit. I have been known to give my last dollar to someone even when I needed it for myself.
I have had many friends over the years that were takers. One-sided friendships. Me always being there, but not getting much in return. It never mattered to me. I was born a giver.
I am no longer a giver. I have become a taker. I have nothing to offer. I don’t care if your dishwasher broke, your dog died, your kid failed english or anything else that has run amok in your world. I am at the bottom of a well and I will suck you to the bottom with me. I will tell you in great detail all about the hell I am living in. I will soak up your sympathy, your empathy, and even your pity. I will let you hear the screams and wails of my grief if you want but I have nothing to offer you in return. I am empty and hollowed out. I am in a dark and scary place. I don’t even recognize me any more.
To the people that continue to reach out to me with phone calls, texts, and offers to visit; Thank You! I know I keep pushing you away but I am not ready to have lunch or return to “normal” life (whatever that means). I am wallowing in my grief at this time. It is not a personal rejection. It is just me, isolating myself. I don’t know if that is good or bad; but it is where I am at right now. So unless you are interested in a one-sided friendship, please wait for me to reach the other side of this grief where I can become a giver again.