To Be a Healer

My obnoxious positivity rains down on other people like the after showers of fireworks on the 4th of July. I can decorate people in ribbons and flowers, and make them the prime float in a parade made solely for them. One that shines and pulls in spectators within fifty feet. I can make them glow and remind them of their worth and value, even for a moment.

My silence offers freedom for their thoughts to reverberate into the universe. Every word stopped at my ears’ touch. Allowing their feelings, big or small (always relevant) to enter into a space that holds no echo. And the heat of their secrets burns delicately on my skin sending back warmth and safety.

This is the gift of a healer. A listener. A responder. This is a gift given to others free of charge.

And when my body and ears become fully soaked in the release from others, I take on the responsibility that is not mine. Discerning what belongs to me, and what has leeched itself to my soul. Blending with the oil on my skin, seeping into my blood until what is mine and theirs becomes solely mine.

The emotion-weighted vest that drapes over my shoulders feels impossible to shake off.

While I try to give back to myself, I realize the healer within has given and offered too much to others. Forgotten about healing herself. And now the cost is too high.

Free of charge is the minimum, my life is the maximum. The balance is a cost, and yet still worth every penny.