About others…
Greeting dear friends & fellow navigators, & welcome to my world today. Repeat after me: It is not about me. Not always. Not this time. Maybe not ever.
There is something liberating about stepping off stage. Not sinking away in defeat, but walking down gently. Placing the spotlight on someone else, on something else. Letting the world breathe without insisting it revolve around your heartbeat.
It took me years to understand this, & I still forget. To realise not every silence is a personal attack, not every absence is abandonment, & not every harsh word a dagger meant for me.
Sometimes people are fighting wars I cannot see. Storms rage beneath calm brows. Grief walks beside people wearing smiles. And love? It can look like distance, not closeness. Not
because it stopped, but because it is trying to survive.
I used to flinch when someone did not text back. Assumed the worst when someone cancelled plans. Wrote entire novels in my head about being forgotten. Because I thought
everything pointed back to me.
But one day, I saw a woman cry on a bus before getting off to go to work, fixing her lipstick & smiling at the conductor as if nothing had happened. Then I thought to myself, she is just
surviving. She was not thinking about me or anyone in the bus at all.
We are all main characters in our own minds, but only guests in the stories of others. So maybe, the best thing I can do is to stop making every shadow mine. To stop twisting every narrative into a reflection of my insecurities. To stop assigning meaning to moments not meant for me.
It is not about me when a loved one withdraws. It is not about me when someone lashes out. It is not about me when the world feels indifferent. It is about them. It is their pain & their battles.
Just like it is mine, & I ~ I am just a witness, a passer-by, sometimes a friend & sometimes a lover.I used to think it made me small. But rather it makes me compassionate. It gives me room to love without control, to show up without expectation, to hold space without trying to fill it for the need to matter.
When you stop making everything about you, you finally see them. You see the cracked hands of the barista who smiled at you even though her feet ache from double shifts. You see
a child trying to make sense of adult anger, not knowing it is not their fault. You see a mother holding her breath, waiting for her child to come back home as soon as possible.
And suddenly, the world opens wider. When it is not about me, I become softer, I become calmer. I learn to ask; what is happening with them? Not, what did I do?
So repeat after me: It is not about me, & feel the burden lift. Because sometimes, the most profound act of love, is realising you are not the centre, & learning to make space for others.
I know it may sound cliché, & I am not the first one to tell you this, but the next time your blood boils & you are almost about to act out; count to 10 & then ask yourself, is this about me?
Chances are, it most probably is not. When you realise this, you instantly become calmer & better prepared to handle the situation.
Just few observations again dear friends, & provide an opinion in my world. Thank you for stopping by, I appreciate your being here. If my journey encourages you also, all is well with
my soul. Looking forward to next week; this is Kenn Butler in Paradise, Nelson with best wishes.
1 Joseph Burgo, “Free Floating Rage: Borderline personality Goes Viral.”
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