Quiet time alone (Part 1)
Added 2020-08-01 23:34:24 +0000 UTCWhen I’m alone I can hear myself. I can hear what I need, and sense how I’m feeling. If someone else is in the room my radar tunes in to them, to their needs. It’s how I’m wired. I can’t hear myself if someone is standing beside me. I need to be alone, without interference, to feel myself exist.
I’m learning that I have to be responsible for this on my own. It’s not my loved ones fault that I can’t focus on my own needs when they are around, it’s me who has to work harder to make space for myself, to make time to listen to the stillness inside of me. I want to give myself the same level of care and service that I offer to the people I love. I am also people I love. I’m learning.
Service is my love language, and my default. What can I do for you? What do you need? What do you prefer? How can I make you more comfortable? I remember being 15 in my kitchen with my best friend, stoned and making waffles. “Which forks do you like best,” she asked. I was getting our drinks ready while she pulled out cutlery and examined the options. “I like the thin handles,” she said, sorting through the mish-mash of options in the drawer. “I think you prefer the heavier ones though, with the rounded edges?” She was right. And she laid out my preferred fork, and her preferred fork, and I was happy knowing that from now on when she asked me to grab her a fork I would know which one she liked best.
This is what I thought love would be like.
