Just show up

I was thinking of my friend J lately, and how in my frustration and grief over my sister's illness and ultimate passing I did not show up for him during his hard times with his family. Granted, we do not live in the same city, and now that I am not regularly on Facebook we do not communicate, but it is still hard. I reached out to him via messaging and asked how he was, what was going on with him, etc. The response was not cold, but standard. I am great! How are you? I don't know why I didn't tell him about the last few years of my life, how my sister was raging with the bottle against life, how some days it took all of me to get out of bed and show up in some way for the three people in my house that count on me to show up in myriad ways every day. About how still after a year I grieve and wonder if there's something I could have done, even though in my heart of hearts I know there is not, I'm enough of a narcissist to think that in some way this was about me. Instead I return with, Great! We are all great! And some days we are. But some days we are drinking a margarita at 5 o'clock because the children won't stop bickering. Or that I don't have time for anything as I am transporting the wee people to and from their various activities. Or that sometimes I am so tired I cannot sleep. Or or or or or. All these things he cannot relate to. All these things I wonder if he cares about. I think about my tribe, my middle of the night people. People we could call if there was an emergency that would show up for us. He once was that for me. That was lifetimes ago. In this current lifetime I wonder who is in my tribe, and come up short. But the fault in that is in me. If I want someone who will answer my call in the middle of the night, I myself need to show up and be a middle of the night friend. When I describe myself I like to use words like loving and loyal, but for so long my loving has been passive. I used to kid around with the mister that I was in a cocoon of despair. This cocoon lasted several years, through the passing of my mother and the raging of my sister. And a year after my sister's passing, I feel like I am still in my cocoon. Maybe I don't know how to emerge, or maybe I am afraid of what that means after all these years. What is true is that it is time, and I need to find the courage to see who I want to be coming out of this cocoon of despair. Who I want to be for me, for the three people in my house who need me to show up in myriad ways every day, for my friends old and new, near and far who need someone they can count on if they need a middle of the night friend. I need to start showing up. It constricts my heart to consider this, but it's mightily overdue. And I pray for the strenght to use love as an action verb. I was weak with despair, but every day, if I keep showing up, I will get stronger. And even if I wear the introverts mantra t-shirt (sorry I'm late, I didn't want to come) I will show up for more than my three people and be clear with my intention that I can do hard things, and my cocoon does not serve me any more.