The Reliable One

My job is not to reassure, comfort, or rescue you.

I have spent years being handed that role.

The financier.
The therapist.
The accountability coach.
The emotional support animal.
The crisis hotline.
The reality checker.
The person who figures things out.

The multitool.

Please do not ask for help when you cannot be bothered to ask me how I am or what is new in my life.

I am tired of this recurring experience of people approaching me with a problem and unconsciously setting it down in my lap before they have even finished describing it.

Do you know about: my health scares, EMDR, marriage problems, housing decisions, grief anniversaries, raising Bowie, supporting Jonas, navigating NAV…

If someone asked you, “Tell me what’s happening in Melinda’s life right now”, how would you answer?

If I stopped being useful tomorrow, what would we actually talk about?

The answer to that question often tells us what kind of relationship we really have.

It is not to say that those that require my constant assistance do not care. But caring is not just a feeling. It is attention.

I am not just a function, a resource.

That is a disappointment when you realise that you are not truly being interacted with.

Just the idea of you.

The Reliable One.
The One Who Knows Stuff.
The One Who Has Her Shit Together.
The One Who Can Help.