There are some experiences that cannot be given away. They can be described and embellished with carefully chosen words. They can be visible. They can be analyzed in an endless neural loop or drugged into dullness.
I can be vulnerable and tear down all the walls. I can stand stark naked in full view, free fall into intimacy.
You can offer empathy, make me feel truly heard. You can want to carry this for me, take it away, engineer my happiness.
And I’ll tell you that it’s mine. It cannot be given away, even if I wanted to. These moments of doubt and aching. The fears and questions. The rise and fall of dopamine as life pushes my neurological buttons.
I sit with it. I don’t ask you to take any of it away. In fact, don’t you dare try. It belongs deep inside me, even when it sucks the air from my lungs.
Tonight I befriend it, unwilling to let it pass gently into a lorazepam-induced calm. I ask it questions, seek its wisdom. It feels profoundly important that it live and be given its space until it chooses to loosen its grasp on my chest.
It lets me argue both sides without playing devil’s advocate. It knows the tension between competing desires and doesn’t force me to make impossible choices. It lets me love passionately and feel grief and loss, slicing away at my every pretense.
It’s not about you, not one bit of it. This is me at my most selfish and most honest. Here I find that I can become strong and decisive, knowing that just because I feel like this doesn’t mean I am lessened by becoming someone I don’t want to be.
Tonight I will feel this thing, and in the light of tomorrow’s day, you will remain my friend. You will be safe here, we will connect. I will likely drip poetry about the internal events of this moment. I will not hide any of it from you. And it will still be mine, never yours to pick up.
We will walk next to each other into some new crazy corner of life. Maybe you’ll make friends with your anxiety, too. Maybe you’ll learn to breath into the moment and it will die a quick death. Maybe emerging into a life with more openness and honesty will tame it and it will be less antagonistic. I don’t have the answers, but promise to allow you your journey. When you ask me to take your hand, I will.