I keep finding myself in these one-sided, very needy relationships—whether it is friends, or family, people seem to seek me out because they need to talk, rant, vent, or simply unload when the weight of their own shit becomes too much to bear.
I am honored, flattered, most of the time that people even consider coming to me to help them sort through their problems.
However, it’s draining.
It’s really, really fucking draining.
It also builds up this feeling of resentment because most of these people are so caught up in their own lives, their own misery that they cannot see nor comprehend the suffering and struggles of another.
In this case, me.
They can’t see how I struggle, too.
I get it, a lot of people have this idea that because I am strong I can, literally, take it all on, and the fact is, the reality is, I can’t.
I want to, but I can’t.
This mortal coil binds me, and hinders me as it hinders you.
Because of who I am I like to analyze, and over analyze every situation in my life; I like to dissect encounters I have, feelings I am facing, and emotions that rise to the surface—
In this case, I want to know why I feel the way that I do, but I also want to know why I continue to find myself in this position.
I am the first to admit that I absolutely suck at drawing boundaries; as much as I serve Self being a Luciferian, I very much feel obligated to also be of service to other’s.
That saying, “you can’t pour from an empty cup” rings true, and I know how true the words are, but I can’t seem to put it into practice.
I feel this immense guilt when I take days off, or time for myself; often I find myself relating most to my Mom friends who feel overwhelmed with carrying the weight of the family.
At times, that’s exactly what it’s like; my career, my writing, my paths are my children.
The irony of it all is that I thought I escaped the trials and tribulations of motherhood when I had my hysterectomy; boy was I wrong.
So, besides being horrible with drawing boundaries, and feeling this overwhelming obligation to help *everyone*, I am a healer—not something that was easy to accept and more times than not I still have a challenging time accepting this healer status.
I don’t heal in any traditional sense, not in my eyes at least—I heal with words.
Or, I try to.
I tell my story, my stories, so that people know they are not alone—those dark feelings, thoughts and emotions are not abnormal, and they don’t make you a freak: they make you magnificent.
We are all healers in our own right, some more in tune than other’s—some let off a brighter beacon than others; a calling card of sorts, letting people know where to find us.
Healer’s like us often have an impossible time finding the light, we only feel/see the darkness around us and the despair of other’s.
Recently while I was having my own venting session with a dear friend she said something so profound it rendered me speechless; she told me that I cannot find the light because I am the light.
I know this sounds like a piece written from a place of self-importance or ego, but it is coming from a place of truth and a lot of you out there can relate to these words.
Essentially, I am having to learn the tough lesson of not being able to help everyone; I am being forced to face what it’s like to be a teacher (and accept my new role wholly).
I can’t seem to reconcile being a teacher and not being able to help every person who comes to me–in my obsessive mind, teachers assist everyone who comes their way.
All my teachers have been Superheroes, and I am just over here as the conductor of the Hot Mess Express.
Seriously though, some days, I just can’t do it–I don’t have words of advice to offer, my ear is not caring, my shoulder not strong to be leaned on; some days I simply can’t do it.
And that is okay.
Part of the reason these days of paralyzing anxiety, fear and inability to do my “job” overwhelm me so much is because I don’t know when “me time” is more important than life’s everyday hustle and bustle. When is it okay to take time out for me? Where do I go to fill my cup?
Where do I go to re-charge?
I must learn how to balance helping other’s while remaining true to myself and my own path; I must make tough decisions, I must learn to say no and actually mean it and follow through. I also have to learn when to step out of my comfort zone, make myself vulnerable and allow myself to be helped in return.
As I always say I am as much a student as I am a teacher and I will forever and always be both, but I have found myself in a position where I can help people, en mass. I cannot let this opportunity pass me by, I must use this platform and power of words to play my part in the rebellion.
Now, I am not saying I’m going to change the fabric of society (not pretentious enough to think I could, either) but the more people hear my war cries and seek me out to thank me for my courage and bravery, the more I realize how deeply my writing, teachings of Shadow Work and acceptance of darkness have affected my readership.
I never in a million years would have thought I would be where I am today, I don’t even know if I am qualified to be in the position I am but here we are, and here I am to stay.
I have found beauty, blessings and a bountiful harvest of lessons in the dark; I only want to show other’s how glorious it is to dance with your Shadow.
So yeah, I am drained; I feel like I am spinning out of control at times, and the lessons seem repetitive and cyclical—but I am blessed.
I am so blessed.
More than that, I was born for these times of darkness and together we will ignite our torches and illuminate the night.
Blessed are the Torchbearers, the ones who feel too much, and give even more; blessed are the weirdos and geeks, the Mystics and Seekers, it is our time to RISE and SHINE.
Blessed Are the Witches.
Jaclyn Cherie has her roots in Upstate New York. She is an Author, Word Alchemist, Hedge Witch, Feminist, and Luciferian. Finding her Muses in the most unusual places and people, she strives to tell raw, real stories of Magick, the human condition, Sacred Sex, Women’s Issues and, her favorite topic, rebellion.