Field Note: Love Does Not Create Capacity

Love does not create capacity.

I found myself thinking about this recently.

I have spent much of my life carrying people farther than they were able to go 

Or

I have spent too much energy holding onto ties to people that were already adrift.

Ironically, I thought I was being let down by others, not my point of view.

Ironically, I thought I had not loved enough, understood enough, tried enough, explained enough. Then I thought I needed to care harder, hold on longer, or see more of the best in someone.

Then, eventually, finally, as a reward for my efforts, the distance between us would close.

But I have been learning. Recently.

My love does not create capacity in others.

I have mistaken hope for ability before. I have mistaken potential for reality. I have looked at possibilities and held them tightly in my hands while reality sat beside me waiting patiently to be noticed.

Sometimes impatiently.

This isn't a sad realization, strangely. Not angry. Or irritated.

It feels like putting down something heavy after carrying it for years and forgetting it was there.

It’s like letting go of the tug of war rope and letting the other team just fall back.

I don’t want to play this game with people anymore.

I am no longer holding people, especially adults.  

Bon voyage.

Not to Hell with them, although, I have cause…

But I’m not holding with less compassion.

I’m holding with more compassion.

For myself.

And for others.

Not with less love.

But with more love.

For myself.

And for others.

Not less caring.

Just care.

No more carrying.

I spent many years imagining futures and filling in blank spaces. Now I find myself wanting to stay with what is real.

Who people are, what they do, what they are able to give I’m not responsible for. Even en mass.

I’m going to stay more myself.

More alive in my own body.

My energy is my own.

And I want to acknowledge something important.

I can see now that I absorbed other people's perceptions of me and carried them as truth.

I made myself responsible for distances I did not create.

I was right that something hurt. I was right that something was off. But it wasn't me, and it wasn't mine to carry.

It belonged to others. Just like their mistaken points of view. It’s theirs to own. Let others live in the world they create. I have created my own, and I’ve always had to walk through others anyway.

I would say this is my very adult realization.

I have spent much of my life being made responsible for carrying other people's shortcomings when they were never mine to carry.

No more.

Love does not create capacity.

And we are not each other's beasts of burden.

We are not baskets made to carry other people's rocks.

We are not mules built to haul the weight of wounds, shortcomings, responsibilities, and stories that do not belong to us.

We can walk beside one another.
We can help one another.
We can care for one another.

But we were never meant to carry each other through life.

For me, I’ve had to think long and hard about this.

Caring vs Being Yoked

I care that you are hurting.

I feel responsible for ending your pain.

I can listen.

I must fix.

I can support.

I carry the emotional weight home with me.

I can offer love.

I overextended to earn a connection.

I can walk beside you.

I drag or pull you uphill.

I notice your limits.

I deny your limits and compensate for them.

I remain myself.

I disappear into you.

I love me. I don’t want to disappear any longer or be smothered by others. 

While people were invading my privacy and passing judgment, I was trying to understand myself and my life. Their interference was not neutral to me. It affected me. The was real harm done to my nervous system. It confused me about humanity. It pulled my attention away from my own knowing. It contributed to prejuding me.

I needed care. I needed shelter. Not protection or controls. I needed room to think and feel and arrive at my own conclusions.

Instead, I absorbed other people's perceptions and carried them as truth. I made myself responsible for things that were not mine.

Looking back, I can see that some people were interfering in my life and created real harm. And I reacted to that by pulling away. Their judgmental posturing and performance made it harder for me to see clearly. Harder to trust myself. Harder to hear myself. And that frustrated me.

I was already trying to carry my own wounds. I did not need other people putting more rocks into my basket.