The Caring Counselor

I am exhausted while writing this. That’s for sure. I think this post will read more like a journal entry as opposed to a blog post or self-care advice.

The reason I am tired is because I haven’t been sleeping well at all. It’s been like that for over a week now. Without getting into too much detail, I suffered a major blowout with a close family member. Said family member engaged in a repetitive behavior of asking me for large sums of money for the umpteenth time. To say the least, I put my foot down hard this time.

As expected, they did not like this. But this was far from the first time. My frustration boiled over. I tried on so many occasions to give this person resources, make calls for them, and give them pointers. None of it stuck. Instead, there is this cycle that takes place every 3-4 weeks where they run out of money and beg. Not even beg, but harass me until they get what they want.

Even more disgusting than that was how much I felt like their affection for me was attached to this money. The “I love you’s” felt dependent on my ability to open my wallet. And who is to say what this person is even doing with this money? Are they using it for what they say they are? Is it going to some suspicious activity instead? How is it that they keep ending up in the same bind every few weeks?

I couldn’t do it anymore. I blew the fuck up. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They are the one who should be taking care of me. They are a grown ass adult. I am the child. Not the other way around. And then to throw it in my face using guilt trips, threatening to kill yourself, and pulling out old baggage. Hearing the terrible extent to which you went in what you said to me. I had a “wow” moment listening to the desperation. I will not be spoken to like that. I deserve some respect.

Hanging up the phone left an anvil sitting on my chest. I knew what I had to do, but didn’t want to. I blocked you. For how long? I don’t know. Then, you call my business line. Then, my significant other. Blocked times three. As fearful as I am, I can’t let this pattern continue. It is too much. It hurts. Not just now, but my inner child. The little guy is now pained to see this result. All he wanted was his parent. He wanted someone to be there and care for him genuinely. Not to feel used, stupid, and like a failure.

Logically, I know I am doing the right thing. Emotionally, I am so fucking conflicted. My inner child wants to reach out and save this person. There is no saving to be done. My inner child and I both must grieve the ideal and accept the reality that will never happen. This person is obviously not capable of reaching such high expectations. The hope around it ever happening has ceased. The dream dead.

It hurts.

-The Caring Counselor