~On Sharing.~

Some days it just stinks to share.

Sharing is one of the first conflicts we face, as we enter the big bad world of pre-school. Sharing is one of those things that you learn as you grow up that you should do because it’s nice, and we human beings should be nice to each other, and being nice to others is good.

Sharing is not always fun. Sharing means you get less. Less of whatever it is, be it chocolate, time with your toys, or hugs and kisses from your mother when you’re used to being an only child and she brings a new baby home. Sometimes you just want those hugs and kisses all to yourself, damn it.

So we grow up, and hopefully we find a balance between our needs and wants, while also working towards transcending the selfish human part of ourselves that just wants what it wants.

I was having a bad day recently, and Special Man Friend and I had carved out just a little time to connect. I wanted the time. I needed the time. I felt like I was falling apart, and this time was going to be my chance to breathe and regroup. When we got together he was distracted by other things, and I found myself tearful and upset. I wanted him all to myself, damn it. There was a lump in my throat that made it hard to swallow, and I found myself not wanting to look at him, lest I completely break down. I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want to think about anyone except myself. I didn’t want to sacrifice anything for anyone else, or for the greater good. I was internally screaming and kicking my feet in an all-out tantrum that would have made any three year old worth her salt, very, very proud.

I said the words, “Do you need to go?” but was thinking “Don’t you dare. It’s not fair.”

Sigh. There’s no fair. There just isn’t. Some times it’s just one priority over another. Sometimes it’s about choosing. Sometimes you don’t get what you think you need, or want. Sometimes the hugs and kisses need to be elsewhere.

I felt terrible. I felt resentful. I felt sorry for myself. Then on top of that, I hated myself for being selfish.

In the end, he did not leave, and I never verbalized to him how horrible I felt about the possibility that he might choose to be elsewhere with his hugs and kisses when I wanted him with me. I know he tries to be there for everyone he loves, but on that night, for those few hours, I wanted him all to myself. I didn’t want to share. I’m still trying to resolve that inside my head.