JayDee
Never Honorable, sometimes Right
So I saw Kuramia's thread on forgiveness, made my reply, and it got me going on the idea of "giving" and "moral imperatives." So now, after having spoken with a counselor about this previously, I once again come to all of you to dump my emotional baggage and hopefully find some help sifting through all of it.
There are seven words for love in the Greek language.
There is a person I'm very close to that reminds me a lot of myself. We used to be a lot closer, but it was more by duty to one another than by any choice. Regardless, I got to know him more and more, but I constantly found myself frustrated by our inability to properly communicate with each other. I've always been effective at pinning down a person's "psychological" ticks that help me respond accordingly in a social climate. This helps forge relationships that are necessary for my profession.
Words come easy, almost naturally to me. I've rarely ever found a need to stumble over myself, I've built confidence in my public speaking skills by pure spite and became a confident orator. I am never at a loss for words. With this person, however, I simply could not pin them down. I was literally duty-bound to get to know everything about them, but it was like there was a frosted window distorting everything. With him, words got stuck in my throat and I had to choke something out, and rarely was it what I wanted to say. I left every conversation kicking myself and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.
However, there was one thing I did know about him, and it was that he was kind. He put on a brazen act, both to me and his roommates, but I could see his passion. His desire to do right by others. It's what I admired most about him, that he could give to easily with absolutely no expectation of reward. It was my duty to bear the shield for him, but I knew if the time came I would choose to fall on the sword for him.
It wasn't until we were no longer duty-bound to each other that I began to realize the frosted window was actually a foggy mirror. Distorted not by our differences, but my own inability to see myself for who I truly was. I saw myself in him. It terrified me. It terrified me because everything he did finally made sense. His desperate plea for help when he was given a bad report under the veil of nonchalance, his constant need to help others with no reward, his severe independence. All of it was because he never felt like he was enough, so he gives everything he can because he doesn't know any other way. I know, because I never felt like I was enough.
It was this fact that changed my proximity to him from a duty to a choice. I no longer had a duty to care for him, I chose to. I spoke to my counselor about this, he helped me identify it as love. Agape to be more precise, or selfless and unconditional love. Now, I know the words that he needs to hear, I understand what he's so desperately seeking. I tried giving it to him once, but I stumbled and I feel I ended up hurting him more than helping him. As I said, I have to choke words out when it comes to him.
Still, ever since that day four months ago, I have been confronted with the fact that I have to tell him. Tell him the same words I desperately wish I could hear myself. I just...can't. I don't have the strength to do it, the emotional and mental fortitude. I fear that he doesn't think I actually care for him, that perhaps he thinks I only see him as a legacy. So I know I have to tell him that he is enough, that he doesn't have to shatter himself for others.
But he's also 4 years older than me, he has his own life, and his own friends. I just don't know what to do. I care for him too much for my own good, but I feel I've only been hurting him. I want to make it right, but I don't know-how. Does he even want to hear it? From me? If not me then who? Am I right? Am I wrong? I know these are all questions only I can answer, but I don't know where to even begin.
There are seven words for love in the Greek language.
There is a person I'm very close to that reminds me a lot of myself. We used to be a lot closer, but it was more by duty to one another than by any choice. Regardless, I got to know him more and more, but I constantly found myself frustrated by our inability to properly communicate with each other. I've always been effective at pinning down a person's "psychological" ticks that help me respond accordingly in a social climate. This helps forge relationships that are necessary for my profession.
Words come easy, almost naturally to me. I've rarely ever found a need to stumble over myself, I've built confidence in my public speaking skills by pure spite and became a confident orator. I am never at a loss for words. With this person, however, I simply could not pin them down. I was literally duty-bound to get to know everything about them, but it was like there was a frosted window distorting everything. With him, words got stuck in my throat and I had to choke something out, and rarely was it what I wanted to say. I left every conversation kicking myself and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.
However, there was one thing I did know about him, and it was that he was kind. He put on a brazen act, both to me and his roommates, but I could see his passion. His desire to do right by others. It's what I admired most about him, that he could give to easily with absolutely no expectation of reward. It was my duty to bear the shield for him, but I knew if the time came I would choose to fall on the sword for him.
It wasn't until we were no longer duty-bound to each other that I began to realize the frosted window was actually a foggy mirror. Distorted not by our differences, but my own inability to see myself for who I truly was. I saw myself in him. It terrified me. It terrified me because everything he did finally made sense. His desperate plea for help when he was given a bad report under the veil of nonchalance, his constant need to help others with no reward, his severe independence. All of it was because he never felt like he was enough, so he gives everything he can because he doesn't know any other way. I know, because I never felt like I was enough.
It was this fact that changed my proximity to him from a duty to a choice. I no longer had a duty to care for him, I chose to. I spoke to my counselor about this, he helped me identify it as love. Agape to be more precise, or selfless and unconditional love. Now, I know the words that he needs to hear, I understand what he's so desperately seeking. I tried giving it to him once, but I stumbled and I feel I ended up hurting him more than helping him. As I said, I have to choke words out when it comes to him.
Still, ever since that day four months ago, I have been confronted with the fact that I have to tell him. Tell him the same words I desperately wish I could hear myself. I just...can't. I don't have the strength to do it, the emotional and mental fortitude. I fear that he doesn't think I actually care for him, that perhaps he thinks I only see him as a legacy. So I know I have to tell him that he is enough, that he doesn't have to shatter himself for others.
But he's also 4 years older than me, he has his own life, and his own friends. I just don't know what to do. I care for him too much for my own good, but I feel I've only been hurting him. I want to make it right, but I don't know-how. Does he even want to hear it? From me? If not me then who? Am I right? Am I wrong? I know these are all questions only I can answer, but I don't know where to even begin.
