Being dependable quietly became my identity, and somewhere along the way I trained myself to swallow my own needs so I wouldn’t disappoint anyone. Not my parents or Grandparents, but people:

Maybe
Church folk who never found good in any or always had to gossip, complain and whine like nursing babies on dumb-tits
Or
Folks in the community, or the few during the funeral home years who argued and pelted each other with accusations and more
Or
Community members who simply were too ignorant to be gnats and that’s an insult to the gnat
People…. People caused this, yet I don’t regret loving and helping anyone,…. I do regret losing myself and not being prepared for now.

I turned myself into everyone else’s safe place while I lost my own, and now people expect my overextension as normal, they count on it, they plan around it, they assume I’ll say yes even when I’m empty.

This is the emotional cost of always being the reliable one: the exhaustion, the resentment I’m not “allowed” to feel, the strange emptiness when no one is asking me for anything. It is lovely to help and care for others, it is commendable, and I do it so well that I’ve forgotten how to exist any other way; yet it’s harmful, because I’ve tied my worth to being needed, to being the one who holds it all together.

I didn’t become this way because I’m weak or naïve, I adapted, I got very, very good at reading needs, stepping in, holding things together, and being the person others could rely on.
That skill is real.
It has value.
Yet it came with a cost, and now you’re finally the bill is due.
In my educational background and work, we call this: “compulsive caretaking, or a “fawn” trauma response.

I just know it feels like I only matter when I’m useful, like my right to exist depends on how much I can carry for other people. I’m starting to see that healing doesn’t mean I stop being caring or reliable; it means I expand my identity so that I’m included in that care, so I can say “I’m at my limit,” so I can ask for help, so I can be loved for who I am and not just for what I do.

I’m learning that there is a version of dependability that includes me too, that I can be someone’s safe place and still have my own, that I can show up for others without disappearing, and that my needs are not a burden, they are part of what makes me human.

I’m tired, alone, hurting, empty, yet still want to help, but I want to sleep, rest, stop……. Breathe!