Today, she had me sit down with my arms outstretched in front of me. In my hands she placed a basket full of polished stones. The point of this exercise it to show you that even if you can hold the basket with no problem, over time, the longer you hold on, the heavier it becomes. She looked at me with sad eyes. Kind, but sad. She told me I hold on too long to too much.
I’ll admit I’ve been through a lot and I always forget how much I take on others emotions. I forget how much I want to take care of others.
We went back to the beginning, where I told her about my childhood, even my infancy when my mom suffered from post-partum depression. She said when we are born, we are pure and wholesome. We are born good. Then we grow up and the world around us shapes us. Sometimes it changes us to the point of self hatred and we believe we have no self worth. She said I needed to stop taking on other’s pain. My friends, my supervisor, even my mother’s pain.
The more we spoke, an image surfaced in my mind. The image of a bright eyed infant born as a natural empath.
She rests peacefully in her mother’s arms without a care in the world. Her mother fights the loneliness, guilt, and harrowing depression while trying her best to care for her child. Holding the baby close drives the darkness away.
The baby senses this change. The empath in her yearns to care for her mother as much as she yearns for care from her mother. They become inseparable. The child cries and will not be soothed by anyone but her mother. Adults chuckle affectionately at the attachment. The child cries when being dropped off at school. She becomes anxious when apart from her mother. Everyone assumes she is just shy and afraid of strangers. What they do not know is that she also takes on her mother’s pain. She wants to hold her pain, to take it away. To hold it in her outstretched arms, eager to help.