Sponges

I enjoy people watching. People watchers have their favorite spots to do it: at concerts or parks, at train stations, or in a cafeteria filled with anxious parents before a music concert. For me, I like watching friends talking intently over a cup of coffee. I like people that are so immersed in conversation that I can figure out by their expressions what they are talking about. It's a pretty good bet that somber topics have them fingering the rims of their cups and involuntarily drawing down into reflective expressions; joyous topics spark a smile between friends that is visible all the way to their hearts. Do they realize the way they mirror each other? I wonder if everyone, everywhere is a sponge.

There's a lot of advantages to being an emotional sponge. When a sponge loves, they love big! People gravitate to them because they have loads of empathy. Sponges drink up the success when a friend gets a big promotion or the family has a banner year: every birthday, milestone, marriage and anniversary lets them repeatedly relive the best things in life. It is a hopeful place to emotionally reside, drawing happiness from cousin Johnny's big fancy house on the hill without having to afford the payments.

But when things are not so good, how 'bout that old sponge! They're busy sopping up ten times their weight in misery, so accustomed they are to living vicariously through others. They even take up armor to defend against issues that are not theirs to fight. Sponges give away emotional resources and leave little for themselves. They don't know when it's time to squeeze themselves dry, or how to.

What I mostly think is that we all have spongelike parts of ourselves which we need to carefully manage. We can be supportive and maintain our separateness. We can love others without taking responsibility for the cause or the cure of their misfortunes. A filtered peripheral spot is a good place to live our life and let them live theirs, to celebrate and support and balance our love.

NMcC