I Try to Be Loving and Supportive (and Fail)

Okay. So I have wanted to write a motivational-ey, you’re so awesome, I love you letter to my best friend for a while. And today I did it. And I have so many things to say about it, but I feel it’ll just be even worse than I already think it is if I say all that stuff. So I’ll let you read it untainted first, and then I’ll let out all the self-hatred and awful-me-confessions.

***

Even before I got all that close, I thought the rose was beautiful.

When the gardener moved me across the green, I was furious. I remained closed off, for so long. But I still saw you, and I found myself grateful that I had been planted in your vicinity.

You made me comfortable. When I first arrived, you talked to me about things I had felt anxious about. You offered to be my guide and show me around. You helped me feel included. You told me stories and I felt a connection to your life and interests. You made me feel safe. I didn’t have to worry around you. You were simply beautiful and wise and kind and considerate and caring and funny and witty. A rose and a lavender. Who would’ve thought.

When my petals started to droop and my stem started to slacken, you were there. You were there to brush your petals against mine. To hold me up.

I didn’t talk. Not really. I mean, more than I had, yes, but my soul hadn’t joined yours yet.

When I started to heal and open up more fully that beautiful summer, you were there to always understand me. I realized that we were more alike than I ever could’ve imagined.

We had fun together, that season under the sun. Or, when we weren’t flourishing with our other garden mates.

I started to shrivel again. This time we held each other a little closer. You understood me a little better. I let myself be seen and understood by you. I feel a little harder.  And you fell with me.

And, in the fall, I discovered your thorns. And you felt terrible when they accidentally scratched me. “I’m sorry!” You cried. “I wound the affection given to me.”

But how could I blame you? You had your thorns to protect yourself. I couldn’t criticize you for that.

I realized how incredibly strong, how resolute you had to be — so carefully, so delicately brushing against, touching, comforting others, ensuring that they never get too close.

But, you see, you didn’t hurt me, dear rose. No. You healed me.

Your touch felt like perfection. Love. It was trust and compassion and understanding and support and bravery and empathy and honesty and love love love.

Without your thorns, who would you be? Not my lovely rose. Not my beautiful, caring, feeling, wise, loving, graceful, loyal, supportive, abiding hero. I just had to tell you, dear rose, that you are my hero.

And I can’t help but wonder if, in the midst of your love for everyone else, you forget to love yourself. So allow me to manifest this to you — I would be nothing without you. You have made me who I am and I will never stop loving and admiring you for it. My courageous, fierce, affectionate rose.

***

I feel so sorry for her. That she got me. Because I truly am so self-centered and selfish and all wrapped up in myself, when you get to the core of me. You see, here’s the worst thing about me — I have to make everything about myself. And here I am, trying to just LOVE my best friend. Trying to express how much I admire her and how much I love her and how truly incredible she is. And it turns into this self-pitying, self-hating rant. It turns into me being terrible at loving other people. I feel like I shouldn’t even post this, because I feel like the negatives of this outweigh any positives. What’s the point of trying to love her and express that love to her and be a good friend when I clearly just can’t? I can’t because I can’t even do it for myself. I can’t seem to love myself. And I can’t seem to love my best friend the way she deserves to be loved, either.

She loves me. She loves me so well. She comforts me and she talks to me and she loves me and she chooses me. She writes for me. She writes beautiful texts and blog posts and letters and I feel known and loved and understood. And then here I am, trying, trying to return the favor. Trying to return the favor in the area of one of my strengths — my writing. But it seems that I can only write about myself.

“There are some things about myself that I can’t explain to anyone. There are some things I don’t understand at all. I can’t tell what I think about things or what I’m after. I don’t know what my strengths are or what I’m supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail, the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared, I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people. So I’m not such a wonderful human being.” (Haruki Murakami)

It’s more so the second part of this quote that I love. The beginning is sure. But I can explain myself actually. I can explain myself so well sometimes. And when I start thinking about these things, I end up thinking only about myself. I do become really self-centered, and I do hurt people. And I’m not. I’m not such a wonderful human being.

Even a couple weeks ago, when I was personally doing good and having all these epiphanies, I was still so tremendously self-centered. I am just… such a selfish person. Even this blog post is proof to that.

So I’m sorry. To everyone. But especially to those I hold dearest. I’m sorry I really am not enough, no matter how many times you assure me that you chose me for a reason.

To close, I’d just like to hurry and talk about this song that I’ve really really been feeling today. Here’s a link to it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-huPs-6FFSk and the lyrics are below. It’s from that movie, “Beaches” that I was talking about in my other blog post. The best friend CC sings it after Hillary dies. And CC is this pop star and Hillary was a quiet lawyer and mother. One of the aspects of the movie/their relationship is that CC can be wicked selfish. So yeah. Here goes.

Wind  Beneath my Wings
By Idina Menzel

“It must have been cold there in my shadow,
to never have sunlight on your face.
You were content to let me shine.
You always walked a step behind.

So I was the one with all the glory,
while you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name.
A beautiful smile to hide the pain.”

These stanzas doesn’t perfectly line up. I take it to mean something different than it does in the movie. I take it more in that my best friend is always holding me up. She’s always helping me have sunlight on my face. She helps me shine. So much. But I don’t think she’s a shadow. She definitely shines and feels the sun herself. But I don’t give it to her. I don’t support her nearly as much as she does me. I don’t love her enough and I don’t walk behind her enough. But for whatever reason she sticks around.

“Did you ever know that you’re my hero,
and everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
’cause you are the wind beneath my wings.”

This one is just yes. Exactly what it says. That’s how I feel about her.

“It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
but I’ve got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth,
I would be nothing without you.”

This one is yes. Because I feel like her strengths and beauty goes unintentionally noticed by me. Not completely, because I do notice, but I feel like I don’t verbalize it enough. I don’t explain it enough. I don’t remind her and tell her enough. I know the truth — I see her through my eyes, and she is so so so incredible. But I hate how I don’t give her what she gives me. And I’m pretty sure I would be nothing without her right now so that too.

“Did you ever know that you’re my hero?
You’re everything I wish I could be.
I could fly higher than an eagle,
if you are the wind beneath my wings.

Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?
You’re my everything, everything I wish I could be.
Oh, and I, I could fly higher than an eagle,
with you, you are the wind beneath my wings.
Oh, beneath my wings.

Fly, fly.
You’re my hero.
Fly, I want you fly.
Fly.”

Alright so yeah. That’s the end. Gosh darn it I’m so sorry this post was so dreadfully awful and such. Maybe you, whoever gets this far, should’ve stopped after that nice-ish thing I wrote. I am such a heavy, damaged, awful thing, and I feel so terribly sorry for it all. I have so many more self-deprecating things to say to be completely honest but I can’t keep going on like this. It’s awful of me. Pure awful. So we’ll end this here.

Love,

KY