Getting Home Safely
What I know of care is this: It is an active thing, never passive. The same can be said for love, but that’s a topic for another day.
I’m very much a “text me when you get home person,” because I want to know my people are safe. And the reverse is true: I like to know I matter in return. It’s a small thing—asking someone that. I did it the other day (last week? I can’t remember, because time is coated with travel haze) without hesitation—asked someone I care about to let me know they were safe.
After the fact, it struck me how easy that question was for me. How I did not feel self-conscious or anxious asking, as I would’ve probably in the past. It felt right. And I like that. I have learned to trust my instincts, more than I ever have, over the past year or so. And it’s been affirming and freeing. My instincts are my heart—that is to say, it’s the best North Star/compass I’ve got. CareBear, etc.
In a particular previous relationship, I never would’ve asked for that—“let me know you get home safe.” They would’ve thought it was silly. They would’ve made me feel ridiculous for asking. And, quite frankly, they did not understand me or what I meant when I said that. And I realize all the red flags in the entirety of who were to each other. (Thanks, hindsight!) But I have grown so much, as a person since then. I’m a better version of myself after all that. And I know what puts me at ease, and I value that.
I must’ve learned this from my parents. From my dad, who called home every night when he was on business trips. Who still does, even though my mom is gone. And I called him every night from Scotland just to say, “Hey, I’m safe.” Yes, I am 41 years old, and it sounds a bit silly. But it’s not really silly to matter to someone. (Plus, he was taking care of my cat, so I got regular updates.)
I’m always sure in how I show care. A goddess of gestures big and small, per a friend. But I am less well-versed in getting care in return. I will, occasionally, argue about a kindness being done to/for me or be sheepish about it. Which is silly. (I’m working on it!) But to be blunt: directness is good. On wobbly days (and they happen), just whack me over the head in a way I can’t ignore. I have a whole history of brain weasels; sometimes, they appear unexpectedly. Less than they used to, but we all have old ghosts.
I think, at the end of the day, we all want to know we matter. Not for what we do and never for what we can do for someone, but for who we are. As a person. And I deeply love being trusted, being a steady, safe place for people. It’s not for show. It’s not for public consumption. It’s just a facet of who I am.
So, I’m a “text me when you get home”/“thinking of you” person. Because knowing you’re cared about matters. I think things like that are little lighthouses in the dark. And I have never given a damn about looking cool or playing it cool. I’m genuine and entirely myself. I could pretend otherwise, but what would that accomplish? Hard pass, no thank you.
I think, so often, we all wonder how much we matter and in what way. And I try to live my life in such a way that those in my orbit know they’re cared about, whether we’ve been friends for a long time or are just getting close. It’s always sincere and never hollow. For better or worse, this is me.
I like to think my wild, wide heart feels like an open door, because that’s exactly what it is to me. For all the madness in the past, and all the lessons I had to learn, none of it changed who I am. None of it dulled my light. In fact, I probably just leaned into who I am all the more fiercely. Because I’ll be damned if I am less.
So, yeah, I’m a “let me know you got home safe” girl. Because I’m also the “sit with you on the phone when you’re sad” person. And the “tries to make you laugh/smile randomly” human. At the end of the day, you matter. And if you’re in my life, I’m damn well going to show you that.
ALSO, you can read my new poem at The Deadlands here: https://thedeadlands.com/issue-35/the-high-priestess/. I am extremely proud of this piece for so many reasons. There’s a story behind it, and a story about it finding its home. But that’s a tale for a cozy chat, not a newsletter.
Until next time, nerds!
P.S. I’d scheduled a newsletter for when I was away, but it appears that it just did not send. It didn’t feel right to send it today, so you’ll get a bonus one later this week.