Before I begin this entry, I want to say this to people who tend to pay massive attention to detail.
There may be moments when it looks like the author of my blog entries may be someone else. Usually my spurts of inspiration to write happen in the daytime but I am not always able to access my blog location in the mornings. So, I do have someone who assists me with the postings when I just can’t wait to get things out. Wouldn’t want anyone to own some of the wackiness that goes on in my brain—cue laughter.
Now that the PSA is out of the way, let’s get to it. I want to talk about this formula.
Monica = Human First Aid Kit
I told someone once that even when I was a child, I never felt like one. When one envisions a child, it is this aura of innocence—being carefree, not experiencing the gravity of the world right away. Yet, ever since my existence, my feet have been shackled with these invisible chains of concrete, weighing me down … to the point where I cannot recall a lot of childhood experiences. They come as if someone snapped the red button on the Polaroid camera (remember those?) and shaking the ejected squares to make the images come to life. Sometimes, it’s a hit; other times, it’s a blur.
For example, I recall learning how to read as well as the means of how it was achieved. I vaguely remember learning to ride a bike and a few bikes I’ve owned but not much of my emotions while I rode.
I was too tuned in to other people’s turmoil—the why of their situations. As a youngster I had no business being aware of discord that was decades before me, although it was never spoken about explicitly. I should not have gained awareness of my station in life before it was conveyed to me. Distress signals of those souls—particularly those closest to me—become loud, even deafening, to the point where I thought if I could serve a role for healing, then I would reap the benefits as well.
Is it really my fault that I have a stronger penchant for nurturing than others? That I don’t like to see anyone in pain?
Over the years, being a Human First Aid Kit has become a bit of a detriment. I learned that not all of humanity appreciates a healer or a helper. There is this perception that if one is willing to assist or eager to help, that there is a flaw in the tapestry of common sense.
There are many end results to empathetic abuse.
For me, the top one is expectation. If a person is not used to getting surprises or good treatment but receives it, expectation is the ugly flip side of appreciation. A person soon stops saying, “Thank you.” A person stops being grateful, ceases being humble. That little nudge to one’s self esteem, an act of doing something just because, transforms into a must. The demands for pleasure become greater, and when one cannot achieve it, for whatever reason, then the same person who was appreciative suddenly has nothing but negative to say. All the good can get wiped out with one failure. Like my grandma always says, “You don’t start something you can’t keep up.”
Then, it is consumption.
Do you ever have a friend that just hits you up or contacts you when he is in a bind or only when he needs to vent? Like, you can’t get a word in edgewise because he’s chomping at the bit to get his extra out?
In my dealings, I recognized that those types suck at my energy. Don’t get me wrong; I am good at listening to people and wanting to encourage, even advise, if need be. However, there are moments when I don’t want to be available. Even when I let it be known that today is not a good day, others are oblivious and behave like I don’t go through anything.
What people fail to realize is that I don’t have a need to advertise every frigging thing that goes on with me. Do people really care so much about what I eat in the morning or if I finally got a chance to blow my stuffy nose? In my mind, there are people who have it better than me but too many others who have it worse. Also, I operate on a very high code of privacy and am not one to make anything in my life “Breaking News” unless it is a substantial life event—even with that, timing is everything.
It just sucks that because of keeping things close to my chest, it is erroneously assumed that “all is fine” in my world. It robs me of being human. It’s like those people who tell a strong individual to just “suck it up” because “it isn’t that bad”. Yet, those who are perceived as “fragile” or “delicate” individuals are never told that because it would just be inconsiderate or downright mean.
I strongly believe in the transference of energy. If I’m devoting time to attend to someone else’s “problem”, that is energy I’m not investing in myself. Truth be told, what may be seen as an emergency to one may not be a big deal to someone else. Too often, I’ve not treated the unfortunate situations in my life as “emergencies”, running off to deal with others’ “no big deals”. As much as I dislike those oxygen evaporators for imposing, I also have to take responsibility for the access.
I’m going through the steps to protect myself. I’ve become more compartmentalized, limited people’s access to me, even eliminated people. For some episodes, the phrase “It’s not you; it’s me” fits. For the majority, “It is you so I have to protect me”.
The presence of love makes it all the more challenging. I know it seems cliché to say or talk about souls meeting before or spirits being drawn to each other, yet when you meet a person you feel that with, an ongoing battle ensues in an empathic.
You experience pain that you know isn’t your own. There are thoughts which seemingly spring out of nowhere, even certain emotions. All of this transcending beyond time stamps, even locations. It’s very unnerving, synapse stomping even, because in all of this internal wire trash talking, where in the Sam heck am I located?
When this type of bonding is impaired for whatever reason, there is still leftover … it doesn’t shut off just like that. When that person is in trouble, it is this immediate nudge of “help” tapping against me. Even when experience and pain rush in as reminders, when one’s spirit is designed to rescue, it is almost as if I’m going against me to ignore the movement.
Yet for me to continue servitude in a role where I was dismissed is unhealthy for my spirit. The only way to stay protected is to turn the music up to block out the screams, to put on the glasses when the “signal” flashes in the sky.
Now this brings me to another empathic detriment—potential. If you’re willing to ride this blog cruise ship a while longer, the island of clarity will be reached.
Potential, at its core, is not a bad thing—only when potential blocks out the reality of a person. I’ve met with so many, and with a few, I have seen their potential. Yet, whether a person rises to it depends on the individual. Also, others have to butt out. It has to be of the person’s own volition. If not, as soon as the source of the inspiration is out of the picture, he will backtrack, may even go back to “life before”. Action is the key—it transforms potential into a goal worthy of achievement.
Potential can eat up a lot of First Aid Supplies—one doesn’t know whether you’re healing is real or psychosomatic. Am I providing comfort because there was a real attempt to reach potential but failed, or was there a lot of trash talking to be a better person, only to discover one never tried or had no intention of doing so? Both cases are depleting but the latter is more so, because it is based on deception. Any healing to uphold deception is counterproductive to my person.
With that being said, I can’t get caught up in someone’s potential nor be responsible for implanting the surge to achieve. That has to already be within the person—one has to be willing to do the work and accept the challenges on the route to achievement.
Before I close, I’d be amiss if I didn’t throw this in some of these other points.
I do not want to be that person who is the suture when someone else’s relationship has failed … especially if the heart got broken by that person everyone (like, really, everybody, me included) warned you about but you proceeded anyway. I’m not designed to rebound specifications, nor an emulation of a what if module.
I do not expect anyone to be perfect but it is too much responsibility to expect one person to be the prime source of your healing. That’s what an actual doctor is for, and even a doctor has a whole team of people helping out.
Human First Aid Kit – First Aid Kit = Monica
Just take out the “First Aid Kit” in the equation. What is left is what I am, and it’s how I want to be treated.