it ain't all about you

(sidebar: this is a PMB, or Pre-Menstrual Blog. Yes, it will sound a little pompous, bratty, bitchy, whatever... cut me some slack. I'm having a Bad Day.)

The people I am closest to seem to share a common denominator: in one form or the other, they have given up. On Life/Love/Ambition/Happiness/the Great Whatever. What is the draw? Why do I find myself energetically bound to them? Depression is so f-ing contagious... why risk it? Why not leave them to it?

Damned if I know but my best guess is that I think somehow my love and attention will make it all better. Loving the almost unloveable. Caring for those who could care less. Trying to encourage the unmovable and the unchangeable. Where did I pick this up? What's with the Cosmic Joke here? Gift or Curse? I honestly don't know. (I DO know what at least one person would say, hence the title.)

It ain't all about me. Or you.

I'm truly grateful for my profession. There's an ad, "Depression Hurts" for a new antidepressant. Depression does hurt and massage therapy is a great way for me to care for the human race without getting too attached to it. And it gets results. My clients leave me a little bit happier, a little more ambitious, and a little bit loved. And the reverse is true; I feel appreciated.

So what the heck am I supposed to do with the emotional castaways on my island of Me? I can't envision my life without them; they are a part of my heart and what makes me "me". Hmmmm. Maybe that's why I don't give up... it would be like giving up on myself.

So there. I said it.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day for me... or them. Whatever.