Sometimes I feel kinda like one of those kids whose parents fight a lot, but who is still very attached to them both.
I hate to have conversations with both in the room at the same time, for fear that one will say something that I won’t have the chance to blunt the edge of [or simply delete from existence] before telling the other; that I won’t have the chance to play translator before someone gets too stressed over a misunderstanding; that the explosion I know is going to happen doesn’t happen quite so soon–maybe it will wait for another few weeks. Maybe after Thanksgiving, or Christmas, things will cool down…
I keep thinking that maybe if I just do well enough at picking up a little of everyone’s slack, which I’m not, presently, then maybe one won’t notice that the other’s not there and there won’t be inquiries into who’s where and who’s doing or done what. Just “why isn’t this done?” to which I can respond, “I got it. Sorry.”
“I’ll do [better, more, faster] next time.”
Then there’s the third corner of this polygon, whose input I usually want to try to absorb and blunt for everyone. This corner of the polygon pokes [and occassionally rips and tears] into what feels like an increasingly tenuous balance. Like an older sibling that is just removed enough from the situation to not be of assistance. At all. Sometimes, I want to make this corner tear only into me, so I can absorb the blame and work just a little harder, try to do just a little better and catch just a little more, without the need for the drama and heightened emotions with the others.
I never even glance at the results of this stress and maneuvering anymore. I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything good anymore. I don’t feel like there’s anyone qualified to tell me I’m doing well; they can only point out the flaws for me to work on fixing.
Sometimes I wonder at how difficult it would be to dissociate from my little warped polygon. Unfortunately, knowing my personality, and knowing how much fun we have when the times are good, unbearably difficult.