#mutterings

So

Big sometimes

And so often we become the one who takes care of people - those of us with this wound.

The hard thing is, learning how to take care of yourself really well doesn't heal it. Learning how to ask for help when you need it doesn't heal it. Learning to live with it doesn't heal it.

Nothing really does, when that "step" in your early childhood was either missed, mishandled, or otherwise fumbled spectacularly enough to cause this kind of wound. It's hard in complicated cases too, where you were cared for in many ways but maybe not the one that mattered. Or you were cared for in ever way but inconsistently. Or it was from a source that betrayed or abandoned you, even if you were handed off immediately to someone else that took care of you. There is no wrong way to receive this wound, nor is there a competition for who gets to feel it the hardest or the deepest.

But those who have it recognize each other, I think. We do, even if we don't know what it is we are recognizing. Even if the wounds were caused in different ways, even if our stories look so very different.

"I want someone to take care of me"

It may just always be there, in some way or another. It may even be unwanted, where you can't articulate it or you become hyper independent. It may be desperately wanted and cause clinging and limerance and all those painful things. It may be witnessed and cared for and managed by someone who sees their wound and does all the 'right' things.

But it doesn't really ever leave, does it

Tagged by @pansysgothgf

Okay, so I've been tossing around the ideas for an archeologist/anthropologist AU for a minute and this is one of the few scenes I have written. And this is late because I fell asleep super early last night... Thank you for the tag!! <3

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Victoria's voice caught in her throat as the ground fell out from under her. She put her hands out to catch herself, felt them squish into the soft, heavy mud.

"Woah, Crash," Trinity laughed.

Victoria straightened. Her right foot had sunk into the muck, almost all the way up to her knee. She had managed to plant her left knee into the ground, which may have been the only reason she hadn't sunk further. She tried to pull her right foot free, her face scrunching with the effort, but just felt the mud suck around her ankle.

"Uh..." Victoria waved her hands, mud flying from her fingertips. "Guys, what do I do?"

Dennis shuffled his feet, considering returning back to camp, to someone with any bit of experience, but he couldn't get himself to turn around. "What did Robby say? To just stay put, not to try and get yourself out?"

"So I'm just supposed to stay here?" Victoria's voice rose in pitch, vocal chords tight.

"Alright," Trinity said in an exhale and likely an eye roll, though Victoria didn't look at her to confirm. Trinity knelt by Victoria's side. "Don't freak out, Crash. Give me your arm." She held out her palm, beckoning with a curl of her fingers.

Victoria, her heart too loud in her ears to bother responding to another stupid nickname, placed her hand in Trinity's.

"Get her other arm, Paul Bunyan," she said in Dennis's direction, nodding her head at Victoria.

Dennis sighed and shoved down a complaint. He took Victoria's hand, hooked his free hand underneath her arm.

"Alright." Trinity huffed. "On three."

Dennis and Trinity tried to stand, both clenching their jaws with the effort. Victoria's foot felt as if encased in concrete, unbudging, until she tried to roll her ankle.

The trio shot into the air, falling backwards now that nothing was keeping keeping them down.

Trinity laughed, laying back into the slightly drier mud. Dennis looked over at her, then found himself chuckling along with her. Victoria, however, was silent, just starting at where she had just stood.

"Guys." Victoria's voice was small. She stared at her now bare foot, wiggled her toes. "Where's my boot?"

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