Soothing
I’m through with the melodrama and the 3 a.m. thin hopes, about love, or the pursuit, or this idea that my savior awaits with capable, nimble fingers and an accepting disposition. I’ve let got of the fantasy, of the idea that I deserve something, that someday, as I am walking down the street, or as I sleep at night, a team with bandages will come upon me and wrap me from neck to toe, will take me away to a calm grey room where the meals always come on time and I never run out of time, and there are books and visitors and all the responsibility for my trajectory has been taken out of my hands and that’s fine.
I’ve stopped reaching out desperately with clawed hands and a tear-streaked face. I’m no four-year old or five-year old or fifteen year old, waiting for the parent, for the delivery of food and love and support. Find it within yourself, the books said, learn how to soothe yourself, and I see the wisdom in it, the softening when I need to, the surreptitious hugs, my arms firm, my hands stroking my shoulder blades, there, there, you have five minutes to feel crappy and then you move on to the next task.
It helps to keep busy, to move or organize, to swipe dust off of shelves and scrub the bathtub, the sink, the dirty tile. There is always work to do. The Internet, with its playacting, its attempts at closeness, can make it worse sometimes, those moments when I am aware of being alone, a person by myself connected to a machine and no one else is out there looking out for me and I need looking after, I need it, and doesn’t anybody care?
This is what the self-soothing is about, caring for myself, understanding that I can’t expect others to take over the caretaking, that I am the parent, the responsible party. Even the old fantasies, the being imagined and held in someone else’s mind, are no longer appealing. Why give over my autonomy, my sense of self?
What is next? Is this about building a different kind of wall, the I am me and I don’t need other people? I am all about worry, about preparation through anxiety over the things I can’t control, but I can answer this question. No. That’s not what this is about. It’s about boundaries and being who I am. I have nothing against the conversation, the back and forth. I am not without hopes and the occasional fantasy, the feel of a hand on my back as I look into the other’s eyes, the soft lips, the yielding, two adults, two equals, in their lovely exchange. 
From the prompt "Quitting."
I'm posting every messy Round Robin prompt, a prompt a day until the RR ends. Unless I tell you otherwise, this is the original 12-minute prompt edited only for clarity and typos. More of the personal growth thing. Hope it isn't getting old for you guys.
Image by Lovin Earth.