i'm used to being in charge. you know that.
you've seen it. the way i walk into a room already reading it. already knowing what everyone needs before they open their mouths. it's not something i decided to be…it's just how i'm wired. how i've always been. the one who holds things together. the one who takes care of it. the one who makes sure everyone else is okay before i even think about myself.
sitting here with my hands where you put them and not moving them. not touching you. not fixing anything or managing anything or making myself useful in any of the ways i know how to be. just…here. feeling what you're doing to me and trying to stay inside it instead of crawling back up into my head where everything makes sense and i know all the rules.
because up there i know what i'm doing. up there i'm competent. i'm three steps ahead. i'm in control of something and that feels like solid ground and solid ground is all i've ever known how to stand on.
down here it's different. down here there's no ground. just feeling. just need. just this open wanting with nowhere to redirect it because you won't let me redirect it. you keep bringing me back every time i start to drift. every time i feel myself climbing back up toward the place where i'm useful instead of present.
you see it happening before i do. every time.
"stay with me." you remind me gently. like you have all the time in the world. like you knew this was going to take a while and you came prepared.
and that does something to me i wasn't expecting. the patience of it. the fact that you're not frustrated. not pushing. just holding the space and waiting for me to settle into it like you already knew i would. like you've already decided how this goes and my resistance is something you've factored in and aren't threatened by at all.
i don't know what to do with someone who isn't threatened by me.
my hands flex where you put them. not moving still which is harder than it sounds. the need to move gets stronger. i want to reach for you. i want to make this about something i'm giving instead of something i'm receiving because receiving feels so much more exposed than giving ever has.
"i know you want to touch me." you say it so casually. like you're observing something obvious. like my wanting is not a problem to be solved but just a fact you're aware of and choosing not to act on yet. "you can want to. that's fine."
the way you say that. like my wanting is allowed to just exist without going anywhere. without being immediately resolved or redirected or made useful. it can just. be. i can just want and not do anything about it because you said so.
i can't decide if that's the most relieving thing anyone has ever said to me or the most devastating.
"i don't know how to do this." i say it quietly. embarrassed about it in a way i'm not usually embarrassed about things. i know how to do so many things. not knowing feels wrong in my mouth.
"i know." you don't say it like it's a problem. "that's why i'm here."
and something about that lands somewhere deep. the simplicity of it. i don't have to know how. you know how. you've got it. you've decided you're going to hold me here until i stop fighting it and you're completely unbothered by how long that takes because you already know it's going to work.
you're so certain. and i'm so used to being the certain one that being on this side of it is almost dizzying.
my hands flex again. "please." barely a word. more like a reflex. "please can i—"
"no." said so gently. "not yet."
the sound i make. small and frustrated and embarrassed and so relieved at the same time. because you said no and you meant it and you're not going to change your mind just because i asked and something in me that's been white-knuckling it for god knows how long.. loosens. slightly. just enough.
because i don't have to be in charge of this. you've taken it. it's yours. and all i have to do.. the only thing you're asking of me…is stay here and feel it and stop trying to manage my way out of needing something.
"stop thinking." you say it soft. hand finding my jaw. tilting my face up. making me look at you. "i can see you up there. come back down."
and i try. i really try. feel myself descend slowly through all the noise and the habit and the part of me that keeps insisting i should be doing something. i come down enough just to feel how much i actually need this. how long i've needed it. how tired i am of being in charge of everything including my own softness.
"please." again. different this time. not trying to get something. “please, i need—”
"i know what you need." cutting it off gently. "i've got it. you don't have to figure it out.
i stay. hands where you put them. not fighting it anymore. not climbing anymore. letting you hold all of it for a little while.
it feels like putting something very heavy down.
