A Rescuer Learns
I've never been truly alone. I've been surrounded by people my whole life, coming first from a large family (middle child of seven), then going into a marriage at age twenty and following that with another. No real alone time. The closest I came was while I was in basic training for the Army, and even then I was surrounded by a couple hundred guys, eight to a room.
In short, I've never really been a bachelor.
Right now, I am, sort of.
So far, it has allowed me to ruminate on things I have done, and seem to continue to do. One thing, in particular, is a fondness for fixing things, or caring for things that have been put aside, unloved and/or discarded. Most of my computers fall into that category, including the Macintosh G3 that I am writing this on. Even my recently acquired Volvo is a discard, a donation to the local Salvation Army and in need of some major body work (though it runs beautifully, and the subject of a future blog). I suppose that my place is caring when others don't. To me, there is still plenty of use in these items, they are not bad and in fact are quite nice, to me at least. This makes me a rescuer, plain and simple, a badge I wear with pride.
And it is a badge that carries a price, for I am that way about many of my relationships as well. It's not enough for me to just be a friend. I have to be a doctor, a lawyer, a confidant, a therapist. I try to be a fixer, a healer, even when it is not necessary. Is this wrong?
Sometimes. Sometimes, all people need is someone to listen to them, to talk to, to not be talked to (or at). I'm good at that, don't get me wrong. I'm a listener. The problem, though, has been that I can't just listen... I have to pretend to be an oracle, which I clearly am not. The lessons I've learned in this life have been shaped strictly by my experiences, from my viewpoint, and let's face it, I am clearly not like anyone else; none of us are, really.
It's taken me being alone and dealing with myself, my own demons, to realize that I do not have the answers. I can be a friend, an ear and a consoler. But I am not an oracle... I am just a man. And a man with flaws. You see, my rescuing was an attempt to hide the fact that I have emptiness and pain, and rescuing others allowed me to help myself by helping others. Only I wasn't.
As I look at the things I've rescued, the truth comes out; sometimes, not everything can be rescued. Who really needed rescuing, this whole time, was me.
In short, I've never really been a bachelor.
Right now, I am, sort of.
So far, it has allowed me to ruminate on things I have done, and seem to continue to do. One thing, in particular, is a fondness for fixing things, or caring for things that have been put aside, unloved and/or discarded. Most of my computers fall into that category, including the Macintosh G3 that I am writing this on. Even my recently acquired Volvo is a discard, a donation to the local Salvation Army and in need of some major body work (though it runs beautifully, and the subject of a future blog). I suppose that my place is caring when others don't. To me, there is still plenty of use in these items, they are not bad and in fact are quite nice, to me at least. This makes me a rescuer, plain and simple, a badge I wear with pride.
And it is a badge that carries a price, for I am that way about many of my relationships as well. It's not enough for me to just be a friend. I have to be a doctor, a lawyer, a confidant, a therapist. I try to be a fixer, a healer, even when it is not necessary. Is this wrong?
Sometimes. Sometimes, all people need is someone to listen to them, to talk to, to not be talked to (or at). I'm good at that, don't get me wrong. I'm a listener. The problem, though, has been that I can't just listen... I have to pretend to be an oracle, which I clearly am not. The lessons I've learned in this life have been shaped strictly by my experiences, from my viewpoint, and let's face it, I am clearly not like anyone else; none of us are, really.
It's taken me being alone and dealing with myself, my own demons, to realize that I do not have the answers. I can be a friend, an ear and a consoler. But I am not an oracle... I am just a man. And a man with flaws. You see, my rescuing was an attempt to hide the fact that I have emptiness and pain, and rescuing others allowed me to help myself by helping others. Only I wasn't.
As I look at the things I've rescued, the truth comes out; sometimes, not everything can be rescued. Who really needed rescuing, this whole time, was me.
posted by Robert at 7:47 PM
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