Being Grown Folks

I had this really interesting conversation with my mom today. She was telling me some really tough family news about the health of a cousin. And she started to beg me to inform her on how I was doing more consistantly. She asked over and over again for me to be more open when things were tough. Her insistance and fear broke my heart.

Last week my roommate and best friend of years was pretty sick. In a so sick its almost scary way. We ended up at the ER Sunday while she fought a high fever and a lot of pain. I sat there on the phone balancing telling our parents enough to not blind-side in the event that things went worse but not enough to majorly worry them. It was a tough balancing act. I was peaking in on her ever few hours and to be honest. It was a little hard to sleep knowing how sick she was. It was one of those moments where you go, dang I'm an adult now. There is no mommy and daddy to run to if things go wrong, I'm gonna have to figure this out. I had been running on automatic pilot until I missed my flight to DC the next day. I called a friend and co-worker and my voice broke when I told him. I quickly apologized. He said he understood and would pray for my friend and I. It struck me how great it would have felt to have parents to do that with in that moment. To figuratively crawl into someones lap and have them tell you its going to be okay. See, my parents were never those people. Comfort was not something they offered well, they didn't know how. So I could probably count the number of times after I hit teenagerdom that I have done the crawl into your lap and get reassurance thing with anyone.

So that brings me back to the conversation I had with my mom. Sitting there on the phone, feeling how heavy the last week was. Wanting so bad to break a little with her and seek comfort. But hearing the fragilty in her voice. And I was so close. So close to saying "I was scared" "I didn't know what to do." "I felt like such a little kid." And I couldn't do it. Instead I sat there on the phone tears coming down my face, trying to supress it while I assured her I was okay.

What is the line with independence? When do we cross it? How much of it is underestimating there capacity. I mean I believe my parents to be strong and capable. I know they won't break if I let them in. But if I am honest, I am afraid letting them there, will break me. I'm struggling to figure out what taught me to shut other people out in my times of greatest need.

Don't get me wrong. I am an open person. I would say I access people pretty well. But in times of hardship, trauma, real bad issues... I think I try and handle on my own to an extreme. I'm going to spend some time tracing back the tree on that. When did I decide that being grown folks meant handling solo? When do I reaffirm my commitment to that solitude? I'm such a hugger, isn't it ironic that I am not great at allowing people to hold me.

Can the healer, be healed?

I hope so. I have to believe it.

Haha I was just about to add an addendum that said "This post is much more melancholy than my mood." You know, just so no one would worry. ::shakes head::