Regaining Myself

Every once in a while I allow myself to be absorbed into whatever event or crisis may occupy the moment.  Truthfully, it IS usually a crisis.  I extend myself to those that need me and I let them use me as a tool, a coping mechanism, a support system, a friend, an adviser, a comforter,  a counselor, a confidante, or even a confessor.  I am a gofer and also a builder of bridges.  I do not ever....under any circumstances extend physical intimacy.  My restriction has nothing to do with the moral rightness or wrongness, nor do I accept as just or binding the certitude of others regarding their judgment on my personal conduct.  No, it has nothing to do with that. My reserve allows me to wean from dependence and break the connection so that we can all move on.  If that did not happen, I would be used up, burnt out and would quickly disappear.  Then I would not be here to sing to the moon, sprout sprouts, grow herbs and vegetables, make bread and mango butter.  I would never read the thousands of books I am destined to read or write the five or six I am destined to write.  There would be no one to love unconditionally and eternally, to skinny-dip in the middle of the night, to write poetry, essays and commentary, no one to be the nurse-philosopher.  You see, like you, I am unique in the universe.  I am irreplaceable.