I have people in my life who struggle with sadness and depression. On some level I used to think that it was my fault. I would search for what I might have done to cause this pain. I was convinced that if I did all the right things I could cure them. So many of us who were raised with an alcoholic (or otherwise incapacitated) parent carry this kind of burden. If only we could save the people we love...
I am learning to observe these thoughts and feelings in a detached way. They are part of the story I tell myself about myself. My mind says, "If only I were a better wife/mother/friend I could prevent or ease his suffering." When I hear this voice, I have to take two giant steps back. Looking at the relationship from a distance I know that his suffering is his own to carry. It serves a purpose that I cannot understand. In this context, love becomes a calling. It is, quite simply, all that matters.
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