You need me.
You won’t openly admit it, but you do. Somehow, my glances of approval, my words of encouragement, feed you.
And, I need you. I admit it—for the first time.
Even though I’ve read all of those teachings that tell me I have everything I need inside, that I was born whole, but the trauma of birth, society, and my childhood made me forget it all.
Even though I’ve read all of that, and intellectually understand it, I still need you to tell me that I need to get out of my head sometimes.
You need me to remind you of that too, in those moments when you have lost hope and faith in yourself. Somehow, sharing these teachings, whether they’re true or not, is the sustenance that you unconsciously seek to feed your insecure self. Somehow, it makes you feel better to know there is a reason for that insecurity—a reason that is not your fault.
I need you to tell me I am stuck in my intellect, that I overanalyze my feelings and think about life more than I live it. Your words are comforting to me—your laughter contagious. You pull me into your playful “let’s be adventurous world,” and for a time, I forget about my theories, as you and I play with childlike abandon.
But you still need me to tell you to “Stop!” when your pleasure-seeking, life-loving, recklessly wild self begins to binge, rather than savor, the moments you and I hold so dear.
Suddenly, my mama bear hug grounds you and brings you back to the here and now. So simple—just us breathing and being human together, chests expanding and contracting—as one.
And I still need you, to push me—to tell me that if I worry what others think or become self-conscious, I won’t accomplish anything. Your innocence is refreshing. You remind me not to take it all so seriously. You massage all of my worries with your childish thoughts—convinced that a swing on the playground will cure all of my “too heavy to bear” thoughts.
You need me, as I need you—and that’s okay. This life, it’s so sacred and simple and complex—and could absolutely not be lived without an “us.”
So, dear reader, I need you—more than you may know. My words need you and so does my soul.
And you? Well, you are often silent—and that’s okay. Knowing you’re reading means that you’re here—and that’s enough for me.
Needing and being needed is a dance. It is a dance that has been bludgeoned and beaten down with words like dependent, co-dependent, needy, and self-reliant.
Needs live on a continuum—sometimes they swing to the extremes of “I need you now,” and sometimes they swing to, “I’ve got it covered, so leave me alone, thank you!”
We wouldn’t be the sentient, thinking, loving, craving, driven human beings we are without our needs.
So, dear reader, thank you for needing me just as much as I need you!
A Needy Human Being (and I say that with empowerment)
P.S. I hope you continue to love your needs—and cherish those who need you as much as you need them! The needy continuum is such a rich and effervescent soil to live from!
Author: Sarah Lamb
Image: Abo Ngolonkulu/Unsplash
Editor: Lieselle Davidson
Copy Editor: Nicole Cameron
Social Editor: Danielle Beutell