Worthy.

How weird is it that plenty of the people you’re closest to will never show you their worst?

Now read that again.

The people you’re closest to will never show you their worst.

But it’s still there, and it’s worthy.

Your worst is worthy.

I want so desperately to be a safe space, a nurturer. I want to be like my dad: know everyone, and have them know you back as a kind, responsible, sensible human being.

I wish I could be that safe space for everyone I love.

Disclaimer: here are some pretty fucked-up and messy thoughts, but here we go.

Other people’s annoyance and discomfort give me so much power. When I’m in control of the emotional tide, I feel otherworldly. I want to be in control where they can’t surprise me.

I’ve always experienced this need to be three steps ahead when it comes to emotionally charged scenarios. Ironically, the human experience is emotionally charged scenarios, so I navigate life like a game of chess.

I feel like Loki, blocking and dodging and manipulating feelings into thoughts, and thoughts into actions. Understanding the emotional wants and needs of others is the easiest upper hand you can have in a relationship.

You can choose to be amiable and supportive, but you can also plant seeds. The sheep can’t tell you’re a wolf because you’re actually a feral dog that wants to protect them, but your ability to eviscerate them isn’t a secret.

Keep them at arm’s length, because they will disappoint you.

I don't know if I would call this manipulation. Maybe that's just a nicer word for what I mean. I don't necessarily want to control people; I want to understand them well enough that they can't blindside me.

And if I understand someone's emotional situation, I have an upper hand.

There is something intoxicating about that.

If you can maneuver another person’s emotional situation, you’re valuable to them. You can choose to be gentle with that knowledge. You can choose to use it to protect them. And if that person missteps, you can choose to remind them of the cost of being greedy with your care.

That last part is where I get uncomfortable.

Because sometimes I don't just want to understand people.

Sometimes I want to know exactly where it hurts.

I wish I could absorb another person's memories, and they could absorb mine. I want that level of intimacy. I want to experience it firsthand, where there are no lies or miscommunication.

Maybe that's why I want to understand people so badly.

Maybe if I know enough, I can't be surprised.

But intimacy requires the opposite. It requires letting someone surprise you.

I want to experience 1,000 lives. The path that diverged in the woods—I want to travel both. I seek out experiences I don’t understand because I want so desperately to live.

Understanding the scope of humanity is so vital to critical thinking and intellect. If you can’t connect with people, it doesn’t matter how smart you are, how beautiful, how rich, or how praised.

Trust means more to me than love.

Going through my iPhone notes, where I often write blurbs for the blog in passing, I found: “I like the ability to curate their experience.”

What does that mean?

It means the more things I have experience with, the more help I can offer.

Every shitty thing I’ve had happen is such a non-issue to me because:

A) There is worse. I know there is.

And B) You can’t go through life without fractures.

When you’re a safe place for people, or they are for you, the cracks fill with gold.

This is called kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with powdered gold or other precious metals.

Except we are the clay pots.

Maybe that's what I actually mean when I say I want to curate someone's experience.

I don't want to control their life.

I want to know them well enough to sit beside them in the parts of it that hurt.

It’s bizarre to think how few people have seen my absolute worst, and it’s hard to quantify exactly what that was.

Was it when I wanted to die?

Was it when I was most embarrassed, cruel, or broken?

What even qualifies as our worst?

Since this has been sitting in my drafts for quite a while, I had previously written that 3.5 people have seen my worst.

I don't remember what the .5 means anymore.

Honestly, I'm not sure I want to know.

I know without a shadow of a doubt—I love idioms because they’re so grotesquely overused and concise—that one of those people is my incredible husband.

I am now sitting here mortified over how many people may have less-than-fond memories involving my worst.

And yet, I don't think there's anything wrong with darkness.

I think it’s brave.

It’s interesting.

Your shadow is your spiritual fingerprint; unique and one of a kind.

I’m so blessed to think I’ve seen some of my friends’ absolute darkest and sharpest parts, and it just makes me love them more.

This isn't the same thing as being friends with an asshole and calling their behavior “their shadow.”

I'm talking about a give-and-take supportive relationship where the person is openly fighting with their shadow in the McDonald’s parking lot at 2 AM, and they confide in you the exact reason they used to self-harm, or how much abuse they’ve endured, and how fucking ANGRY, HURT, and AFRAID they are.

That's the kind of intimacy I want.

Not perfection.

Not being endlessly pleasant.

Not someone carefully curating themselves into a person I can never be disappointed by.

I want the truth.

I want the ugly parts.

I want the parts people are ashamed of.

I want to know who you are when you're not performing for anyone.

My friends, if you read this, I can and always will be that person whose house is open, attention undivided, and judgment is silenced.

I of all people know how hard life is.

And I don't want you to be afraid of your worst around me.

I want you to take time to reflect on what you can change. Focus on the things you don’t like about yourself, then change perspective and think about what you don’t like in other people.

How many of those things can you honestly say you do yourself?

Beginning shadow work is exhausting and humiliating, but so necessary for filling in the cracks.

Maybe that's what we're doing here.

Breaking.

Repairing.

Filling the cracks with gold.

Your worst is still worthy.

Take care, K.