This amazing thing happens when your tank is empty and your heart is running on fumes. Some people hear the sputtering a mile away; others can read the “E” blinking in your eyes. Then there are those who are so in tune with your psyche, they can ineffably sense it without a word spoken or glance given.
These folks are a soft place to fall when the gas eventually runs out. And for all their softness, there are no saccharine words on silver platters here. They talk about the real shit–the tough shit that gets tangled, pushed down, and forgotten. They let you borrow their eyes and selflessly donate their hearts. They assure you that “Yeah, you’re a little weird, but you’re certainly not crazy.”
I’ve never been good at willingly burdening others with my baggage. The Ruth-to-my-Idgie and I were discussing this last night and decided it’s an INFJ thing. We are unwavering when it comes to being a rock for others, but when we need that kind of support, we turn inward. It’s not easy for us to let someone see behind the curtain. And the bigger the issue, the harder that is. So if you’ve glimpsed the behind-the-scenes, know you’re likely in a rare, trusted group of confidants.
To those who have offered their broad and strong shoulders, unending patience, and sharp insight, you forever have my gratitude and love. I don’t know what I did to deserve such high caliber people in my life. I can only hope to someday repay the kindness and love that you have shown me. An empty, angry, overly pensive heart isn’t an easy thing to handle, yet you’ve done so with grace, honesty, and care. You will never know what your words, hugs, and simply being there to listen have meant to me.
Specifically, to my Soulmate Kit and Girfriend Jess: I owe you two more than I can ever give. We’re the same brand of crazy, and I’m so, so fortunate to have you in my life. You’re more than my friends: you’re family. And I love you both to pieces. Thank you, thank you, thank you.