In those moments when I feel the need to rescued someone, I need to visit my 6 year old self, and tell myself I’ve grown up. This person is not my brother, we’re not mourning the loss of my mom right now, and it’s not my job to be a mom, protect them, defend them, or raise them. That person is not a child… It doesn’t come from superiority as if I’m somehow better than them… It comes from responsibility that was thrust upon me from loss that I didn’t know how to cope or understand. At least I can take comfort in knowing that this isn’t a superiority complex like I’d falsely been believing.
I knew that memory was a defining moment, but had no idea how much of aturning point that was for me…. I do now.
Doctors office in an hour to get my sick note for work.