An Empty Well

It has been an incredible struggle for me to give myself permission to take care of me. I have always been a giver, a caretaker and in that I have failed to care for myself well or even at all.

Taking care of others has kept me going for years, in a very unhealthy way for me. It has been my escape from my own life, from my own pain. In a very twisted way it gave me purpose where I saw none in the reality of my experience. I grew accustomed to my role and apparently others have as well.

As I begin to experience the peace and pain of the healing process I am disappointed that those I have cared for for so long continue to ask for more from an empty well. It hurts and feels like despite all that has been offered, it will never be enough. I feel like I don’t matter. I feel type-cast: forever the rescuer, forever the fixer, the explainer, the hold-it-all-togetherer. I am broken and I need to be cared for for a change.

It is an uncomfortable place to be empty. It’s hard to sit and wait to be filled. I am not used to this place. Not that I’ve never been here, I’ve just never acknowledged that I am here and rested in it.

I know I am called to share my story, as we all are, but it feels so unsafe at times. Maybe some spaces are safer than others and I will benefit to learn where those are. But safe often equates to comfortable in my mind and I am wary of my comfort zone.

I’m rambling. But I’m grateful for friends who have been empty and are willing to sit with me and wait, and grieve, and hope for more for me–for those who have entered with me into my story and are touched with what my experience has been. Ah, to be known and still loved.

I am empty but not alone. God is pursing me and providing all I need for the journey. He is good.

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One thought on “An Empty Well

  1. The truth is, for most, what you give will never be enough. So many people are naturally takers. Most of my life, most of my friends have been happy taking much more than they’ve ever given. I have no idea why I attract people like this, except that I’ve been told I’m safe.

    I used to think I needed to dump the takers altogether, but the thing I’ve accepted about being safe is that I can both hold on to my taking friends and not feel used, drained, and resentful for two reasons: 1) balanced relationships with other people who give as well as take and, 2) boundaries. These are recent lessons for me. By no means have I mastered either.

    Yes, some places are safer than others.

    This flows into something Kwesi and I talked about yesterday. We’ve learned that our story can be heard and used as a testimony by some, as intended. But others, even some close to us, can’t handle our story. An interesting dichotomy to have to hear God on when to share and when to guard.

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