I am terrified of dying alone. Of the thousands of things in life that scare me, I believe that I fear this outcome the most.
Hoping to avoid this, I have come up with numerous solutions to change what I sometimes see as an inevitable outcome.
I have taught myself the ‘correct’ way to interact with people. This practiced equation means that I care for others, loving on them and making sure that they are doing okay. I remind them to be themselves. To take risks. Pursue their dreams. I try to be the most supportive friend that I could possibly be. I love seeing the people that I adore grow into their personalities and follow where God is leading them. I frequently talk about ‘momming’ people, and this is just one of the ways that I mom others. I enjoy celebrating the accomplishments of others, and watching the many ways that they impact the world around them. I love the behind the scenes aspect of ‘being a mom’. I beam radiantly, knowing that I played a piece (however small it may have been) in their accomplishment.
What do I expect from the other side of this friendship? I tiptoe lightly, as if they have laid down eggshells for me to walk on. I gather up all of the weight that I think I am and hold it as far away from the people that love me. I fear that if people perceive me as a bother that they will instantly pack up and walk away. So when feelings try to come up, I tell those feelings to calm their crap down, and paint on a smile. I have told myself for too many years that I cannot bear weight. In my mind, I have not yet earned that privilege.
You have to travel through many layers of my person in order to get to the real Moriah. The Moriah that hurts sometimes, and longs to be known- even though she has said she is ‘fine’ one hundred times today. That’s the person that laughs uncontrollably at her own puns and sarcastic comments. She’s also the one that often convinces herself that she is forgotten. That the opened, and unanswered snapchats are a reflection on the quality of a friendship, or her own person. Or that when the text still hasn’t been answered four hours after it was sent, that she is a bother.
It’s illogical, I know. But each ‘confirmation’ tucks the real Moriah a tiny bit deeper, screaming, “PROTECT ME AT ALL COSTS. You know that they won’t stay forever, and at some point they will be walking away”.
I am learning so much. And this will be continued to be shared very soon.
