i am you, and you are me

Hi, little one. It’s funny to find you here. Do you know where you are?

At the lake in a tiny house that smells like our old barn. It has the same fairy dust swimming in the sunlight and the same quiet mixed with leaves fluttering and weird creaks, which is like the past creeping into the present.

You are curled up very tight with your back to me. It’s hard to figure out how you are feeling. Can you tell me?

No.

Why not?

Because I’m angry.

Angry at me?

No, I don’t know you.

Why are you angry?

I am angry because I am alone.

But you are not alone; I am right here beside you.

I am angry because I make myself alone.

Why do you make yourself alone?

Because it is safer to be alone.

Why is it safer to be alone? You are so small. I see that you are peeking out at me. You can whisper if you need to. I can come closer if you want me to.

My whispers are dangerous.

I understand how you might feel that way but I can take the risk. You can be dangerous if you need to be.

I am scared of my whispers. Scared that I might lose them as they drift out of my mouth. Scared that they will touch you and then you will be dangerous and alone and angry, too.

What if I told you that you won’t ever lose the whispers, even if they float into me? What if I told you that I already feel dangerous and alone and angry sometimes, but I am still here and that I will love you no matter what words take form in that vapor?

If I lose the whispers, then it will be loud and people will hear, people will see.

What will people hear and see?

That I need something. That I am hurting.

You are allowed to need and allowed to hurt and allowed to ask for someone to fulfill your needs.

I don’t want to have to ask, because if I ask, I will have to explain why.

Maybe so, maybe not. Can I hug you and tell you that I am here?

No.

Are hugs too close for you?

I love hugs. I want hugs so tight that I feel like I am wrapped up in my blanket, safe. 

Then why don’t you want a hug?

Because I will turn to stone. And if I don’t turn to stone I will become a ball of blazing fire. And if I don’t turn into fire, I will surely hit or bite or scream.

You can do that if you need to. But is that exactly what will happen?

I can’t take the risk.

The risk of hurting me?

The risk of you hurting me.

How do you think that I would hurt you?

I’m holding my breath until my ears buzz and I can’t hear you. I’m building a giant wall so that you can’t see me. I’m curling up so tight that you will never be able to pry me apart. I am running so fast that the rocks on the trail are ripping my feet. I’m going to jump into the lake with my breath gone and my body tight like a rock and my feet bleeding so that I can sink sink sink.

I am going to take a risk right now and sit next to you. I am going to put my hand on the floor and if you feel like it, you can put yours near mine. I am going to be quiet and try to understand you without you having to give me words. Let’s do that for a second. And if you need to hold your breath, you can.

What are you thinking?

That you are still here.

Do you want me to leave?

I don’t want you to leave me. Not ever. I want to cry but I don’t want you to see me.

Crying can be a good thing.

It’s dangerous.

Will it make you turn to stone or fire?

No. It is dangerous because the tears feel like fire and stone. It is dangerous because once I start I won’t be able to stop. I will cry until there is nothing left but I will still feel the way I do now but worse because I’ll be crying on top of the bad feelings. It is dangerous because I might change my mind about something or everything. It is dangerous because you can’t read my mind and you are big and I am small and my words will get lost in my mind and dissolve into my tears and then you will won’t know what I am thinking and will hurt me and won’t know that you are hurting me and it will be my fault.

I can see that you are crying now. I am going to come closer to you, and if you want me to stay, you can lean on my shoulder. You can tell me what you need from me, but if you can’t say the words, I will sit here until you find them, and if you can’t find them, I will let you know in any way that I can that I am here.

What if I never stop crying? What if I never stop needing you? What if I stay curled in your lap with my face on your shoulder crying forever? You will be angry. You will leave.

You can cry on my shoulder and curl into my lap, and I will hug you tightly but also listen to your body and try to know when you need me to stop holding you. And if you cry forever and need me to hold you forever we will sit here forever because it is my job as a big person to make sure you are safe. It is my job as a big person to see you and hear you and listen to your words and your silence and your movement and your stillness. Is my job as a big person to see you even when you feel invisible and hear you even when you are afraid that it is too loud. I might not always be able to protect you the way that I want or you want, but I will never leave you.

I want to believe you, but it’s too hard. It hurts too much.

Sometimes it is harder to feel loved than to feel alone.

How do you know that?

Because I am you and you are me.