lifestyle

Ask yourself honestly: Do you accept you can't be everything to everyone?

“I can’t be all the things,” I said into the phone yesterday.

I want to be a friend. I want to be a good friend. I want to be a best friend to every little human I encounter.

I want to be a sister. A daughter. A girlfriend. A wife.

I want to be the person who gets called at two in the morning. I want to be the one who shows up at the door with coffee and a heart that is just ready and amped for whatever truth you want to let sit square in the middle of the kitchen table. I want to take people as they are. I want to hold people as they come.

Jealous of your friend’s good news? You’re not alone.

I want to be the mysterious one— the girl in the corner of the coffee shop with the bright red hat. I want to be the rebel. I want to be the one who doesn’t care about the rips in her tights. I want to be a writer.  I want to be a poem.

I want to be the one you can’t stop thinking about. I want to be the one you never let go of, the girl who managed to maneuver herself away like a magic trick. A great Houdini act that left the whole world asking, “Where’d she go? Did anyone get her name?“

Hannah Brencher.

I want to be the one who feeds the homeless. I want to dress the orphans. I want to be the reliable one. The simple one. The one who needs no excess in her life— she gets it and she knows what is really important. I want to be the secret keeper. The girl who you always know is going to cook the meanest, baddest appetizer for that dinner party. I want to be the one who dances at weddings. I want to be the life of the party.

I want to be the one who remembers to look up. I want to be the organized one— the one who has ridiculous control over the content of my inbox. I want to be the one with systems and rules. I want to be the adventurer. The wild one. The cool girl. I want to be the one who never lets a single soul down.

ADVERTISEMENT

I want to be all the things.

—- —- —- —-

“I can’t be all the things,” I said into the phone yesterday to a friend.

“You can’t be all the things,” she repeated. “We all want to be all the things and we just cannot be.”

“But I am seeing something even bigger than that,” I told her.

“I want to be a friend. I want to be a good friend. I want to be a best friend to every little human I encounter. I want to be a sister. A daughter. A girlfriend. A wife.” Via Instagram.

 

There was something at the root of wanting to be all the things. Something I didn’t see until now:

When you make promises to yourself that you can be everything to everyone, you are really just announcing to everything outside your orbit, “I don’t need you. I am everything I need to be, and I am everything to everyone, so I don’t need you.”

And let’s me be honest: not needing people, and not knowing how to need people, is the saddest thing in the world. It’s sad and it’s empty and it will leave you hollow and begging for the “more” you don’t know how to swallow your pride and ask for.

Not needing people is fueled by a lie, not by a truth: the lie that if you really needed people then they wouldn’t come. They would not show up. They would not knock at your door. No one wants to be abandoned and so we all just try to be the ones who jump ship first and swim off in the distance to save the rest of the world. We tell ourselves that feels less lonely. We tell ourselves that feels better than being left. Unchosen.

I can’t be all the things.

—- —- —- —-

Quantity will make you known. Quantity will make you well-liked. But quantity has nothing over quality.

ADVERTISEMENT

They were right to burn that into our brains in the 5th grade.

Quantity will leave you going wide, and wide, and wide, but Quality is a beggar that needs your whole being. Quality is the one who takes you into its arms and strokes your hair as it says, “This won’t be the easy route. It’s not gonna be easy to go deeper with just a few. But aren’t you ready for the layers to come off you?

Aren’t you ready for someone to know you for who you really are? If you keep skimming the surface— if you keep a constant dance with Quantity happening— you are never going to feel known. And darling, feeling known is the best feeling in the world.”

When you are trying to be all the things, you are layered.

You are bundled. You are like one the wooden Russian nesting dolls that keeps itself hiding beneath all the other layers.  And there are a few extra layers that are heavier than the others— wanting to be there for everyone.

Wanting to save everyone.

Wanting to stack the world upon your bony shoulders and turn away anyone who tries to tell you they are here to help.

It can’t be done. You can’t be everything and you can’t do all the things.

The only thing you can do, is choose to let go. Not of everything, but of some things.

And be okay with that.

Hannah Brencher is an American writer and blogger.

This is an edited version of a piece originally appeared on her personal blog, and you can read it here.

Tags: