The Ones Who Care

Caring about someone is a beautiful, complex thing. It has the ability to provoke all kinds of feelings, ranging from happiness to irritability, from wellbeing to asphyxiation. The reaction depends on what state of mind the person you care about is in. During your teenage years, you only want your friends to care about you, or that boyfriend you dream about. Your parents' questions and concerns only seem to you as an exploit of your coming independence. When you get older, start dating, too caring potential boyfriends are the worst type you and your friends laugh about. Then you get that relationship you always wanted and caring about the person you love the most becomes your main concern. You even do it subconsciously. Then, the day you have children, you couldn't even imagine being able to care about someone that much. And suddenly, it's you who ask the questions and raise concerns about their lives. You understand what your parents meant. Caring truly is a beautiful thing.

But sometimes, the concern can be hard for the person who receives it. Even as an adult. At this time of my life, a lot of people care about me, try to find solutions, give me pep talks, dispense advice, try to make me realise that it's not the end of the world that it takes time to get a job. They try out different tactics; hard ones to stop me from feeling sorry for myself ("Other people have lives much worse than yours"- I know, thanks for reminding me), soft ones to make me happier ("You're so talented, you'll find something soon" - Thanks, I'm just a bit impatient), logic ones to make me realise my potential ("What if you try English-speaking companies?" - Thanks, I have, but I'll keep looking) and reality related ones to make me aware of my choices ("You're the one who decided to move to France where it's harder" – Thanks, I know and I am happier here than anywhere else despite my joblessness.)

I would hate for them to think I'm ungrateful. The pep talks, concern, advice, experience, pushes and help from everyone who cares are gifts. I love the people for it. I know they mean well. But what they don't know is that if you take everyone who cares and put all their conversations together, it just gets a bit much. Added to how I constantly think about this situation, it fills me up and seeps out in the form of tears. It's not because I'm sad. I'm just a bit tired from constantly hearing and thinking about something that I am reminded of, and know, is not the end of the world.

I have to find a way to make this a tad smaller without making the ones who care think I'm unthankful. Because yes, I feel unfulfilled doing what I do now. But yes, I will find something else. I also know that unatisfaction runs in my family. I need to work on that. But in the meantime, some days I need to be able to complain about my situation without feeling that I have to keep a facade up to not get the answer that others have worked harder or more than me. Other days I need to be able to be happy about trivial things without feeling that I should be explaining, in concrete terms, how my job hunting progresses.

It's a tricky thing being a grown-up. I welcome the day, I can put this into comprehensible words in my mouth when the moment demands. Nowadays, when I try to speak, it just sounds like I'm an ungrateful 14-year-old who doesn't know how lucky she is to have all those people who care. It's not true. I know.