I don’t remember the details of what happened, but I remember feeling awful. I was five, and my brother was nine. My emergently-abled brother was being bullied on the school bus. I couldn’t speak up about what really mattered to me back then but I could speak up about this. That was good. And a deeper vow rooted itself quietly beneath it…
“I will never leave anyone behind. Ever. No matter what it costs me.”
And it did.
It has.
Invisible vows like that don’t stay abstract. The “no matter” materializes. They take shape in our bodies, our choices, our patterns, especially when they stood in for what we needed and never got.
The good news is that we can learn to walk away and weave it in.
Not to sever the thread but to include the girl on the bus, who witnessed what was. So she isn’t left behind either. Maybe her devotion can be honored without obeying the vow. Maybe she can rest.
Maybe we can walk away in a way that weaves everyone in, leaving in a way that includes all parties, even as we go. Not to sever the thread, but to acknowledge it. To let everyone have their place, even in the parting.
If you’ve had a tendency to keep everyone:
Even the ones who flatten you.
Even the ones who don’t see you.
Don’t feel you.
Even when staying meant disappearing yourself.
If you’ve said,
“I am good if I include. Bad if I exclude.”
Consider:
Sometimes life moves through you as a “no,”
not because you are judging, or unforgiving,
but because life is moving in a fresh, new direction.
Sometimes staying in relationship creates impasse and conflict,
for you, and inevitably for them, too.
Staying in guilt isn’t respectful.
It doesn’t honor them.
It doesn’t honor the dignity of your interdependent sovereign places.
Staying where we are weakened thwarts our emergent movement.
It keeps us entangled with what’s not ours to carry.
Of course, leaving has its costs too. Which take time, space and other interstitial forces to reconcile.
Before turning away, turn toward.
Look with your whole soul at their whole soul.
Acknowledge what is.
Feel the tension.
See what’s yours, too.
Until the tension gives way to presence. To mutual strength. To the dignity of a completed agreement.
“I see your place, while I stay in mine.
You are entitled to your life.
I am entitled to mine.
I leave in order to live.
I carry only what is mine.”