Sometimes while I’m writing, my dog jumps up on the sofa and gets right in my face. Once he’s sure he has my attention, he lies down next to me and pretends to let me keep working. I know what’s coming; my dog isn’t as slick as he thinks. I ignore his fluffy white paw pushing my laptop and keep typing. A few moments later, my laptop will have slid completely off my lap, and my dog’s head will be resting comfortably where my computer used to be.
I envy my dog his lack of self-consciousness. There are times when I want to say to someone, “I miss you. I need some time with you. Please pay attention to me.” But I don’t want to impose. I don’t want to be a bother. I know how busy people are and how many other people need them. And I don’t want to seem needy.
To admit I want someone’s attention is to bare my vulnerability. I might be denied, rejected, and hurt. So rather than risk being hurt, I go without the people and the things I want and need.
Look around. Who’s missing you? Who’s aching to hear from you? Who needs some of your time? Who’s making do without your beautiful, fun, healing, and loving energy?
Maybe we should all try to be like my dog. Be sweet. Be honest. Be vulnerable. Need someone’s attention. To need someone’s attention is to need that person, and who doesn’t want to be needed?
© Living off Island, writingwahine, 2015.