What Would Safety/Structure Look/Feel Like to Jojo?

This was a question posed to me last week, and here is my paraphrased and edited response: What would safety/structure look/feel like to Jojo? I've thought about this question a lot this week. I've written notes. I've looked at myself in third person. I've put myself into others' shoes. This is still a very difficult question to answer. (As I reach over and grab my third piece of chocolate and answer outloud "All the candy.") As I sat with a friend and watched myself give them a hug, say reassuring words, and offer solutions, I distantly wondered how I could support myself in that way. As I looked at myself this week sacrificing in order to help others, I held equally my feelings: of caring, satisfaction in helping another person, and looking forward to the fun and positive feelings that are shared; and my feelings of loss, sadness, stress, and depression as I shut things away into dark corners and hidden drawers. Maybe my sadness was more poignant as a metaphor for the ways I shut away my talents, desires, hopes, dreams and happiness to make room for someone else to grow in the light of day. Maybe I feel guilty that I am so talented, so intelligent, and other people can only wish they had what was handed to me - they think without effort - and it goes unappreciated the hours of dedication I give to those attributes. But I digress, as I don't feel like either a martyr or a hero, even in giving up something so that someone can have a better situation. When I went out of my way to support someone I care for, I found I was only confused and disappointed, as they spent the next while complaining, griping, and downplaying the effort I had put into supporting them. I'm not telling you all these things to complain, but rather, to express that during all of these things, I have felt inside of me a sad, unheard child who is locked away in the darkness. When I am sacrificing myself to serve others, I can feel that side of me in the far background, trying to whisper and being unable to make a noise. I chronically shove down those feelings, telling myself rotely that I am doing the right thing, that "they" need my help, that I must do whatever I can. It is almost as if I feel greatly indebted to the universe and am trying to break even, but the debt is so great I never can. That is what my behavior tells me. But perhaps, my feelings spawn not from a debt I owe the universe, but rather, a debt I owe to myself - and the reason the debt never clears is because it deepens the more I give away to others, not of my overflow, but of every last drop I can wring out of my existence. Byron Katie says that every piece of advice we have ever given was only for ourselves. I've often found this to be true, and this week it has perhaps been truer than ever. As a friend felt guilt for putting another person into an inconvenient situation in order to take care of their own well-being, and as they wanted to help that person but knew they could not do so without costing something of themselves, I gave them advice that I reviewed later with irony, knowing that I do not follow that advice for myself. Later, in response to a friend who was feeling torn between two options, I responded, "It's okay to draw a line of what you're not willing to give up and do whatever is necessary to keep it. Do what is best for YOU." After saying that, I again sat in irony, sadly reflecting on how I often do not choose to not draw a line - and in so doing give up something I do not want to lose - resulting in me giving up a piece of myself. And that is where the question "What would safety/structure look/feel like to Jojo?" has a simple answer: It looks like setting the boundaries necessary to never give up, cut out, or deplete parts of myself for any reason. It looks like treating myself with the respect, love and consideration it takes to nurture myself and create an overflow which can then be used to serve, love and nurture the RIGHT people in appropriate ways. It looks like hearing my own voice, reaching out and speaking up for what I want. It looks like living authentically in my feelings and giving them the space they deserve without excusing, reasoning, or disapproving of them. It looks like honoring my passions, gifts and talents by giving them my time and dedication without feeling the slightest wisp of guilt or selfishness - and by not giving the fruits of those talents away for anything less than they are worth. It looks like not living in the fear that I am not doing enough, that I am being selfish - even just to nap - nor living in the fear of ridicule - like for buying the groceries *I* want because my friends think I eat weird foods, or for planting a potato and being proud that two weeks later it is three feet tall. It looks like honoring my quirkiness, my natural kindness and cheer, my inherent sadness and fears, and not feeling like I need to "fix" or "work on" everything all the time. It looks like implementing the schedule I have wanted for myself for years and (somehow) not allowing other people who live with me and who I care for to divert my goals or step on/ridicule how I live my life and prevent me (by me feeling ashamed and giving in) from being the Jojo I want to be. It looks like accepting each passion I hold as being equal, and not feeling as if some (like a love of shoes, bees or mushrooms) are "unnecessary" because they do not actively benefit those around me. It looks like standing up for myself and protecting my feelings with the fierceness, determination, and sassiness that I would exhibit for any other human being. It looks like not feeling guilt for not giving in. It looks like not allowing anyone - including myself - to say that my goals, feelings, desires, actions, or anything else about me is unimportant, unnecessary, less-than, foolish, stupid, or bad. My simple answer may be a long one - but that is very like me as well - and I will add: It looks like not judging as inferior the way I communicate, my mannerisms in doing so, or the lengthiness I feel I require to portray exactly what I wish the other party to understand and to express myself. Honoring others does not require giving up a piece of myself. Perhaps honor cannot coexist with dishonor, and therefore, there is no such thing as honoring others if I am dishonoring myself. I want to embrace living in honor of my authenticity without guilt, shame or inferiority. I want to stop feeling my inner child as a sad, silent spectre shoved away in the shadows and shut behind a door - and to stop scolding that inner child for the feelings and whispers. Maybe if I am being most honest - if honesty comes in layers - then despite a top layer of honestly being pleased to help others, to give and to serve, and feeling I am doing the right thing - the deeper layer of honesty says that I want to dedicate myself to my passions, that I want to live authentically and healthily, that I want to be my quirky, friendly, weird-food-eating self without having to sacrifice anything to anyone - but rather to just give the overflow. And for now... this is my tentative, unsure, delicate goal... and I will continue to nurture it, to make mistakes, and hope it grows into something beautiful.