Seeker: I know they’re bad for me. Everyone tells me. I tell myself. But I can’t seem to actually leave.
Companion: What happens when you try?
Seeker: I get to the edge of it, you know? Like I’ll pack a bag or write the text. Then I think about them alone, struggling, and… I just can’t.
Companion: So you see them struggling and you stay. What do you see happening to you while you stay?
Seeker: I’m getting smaller. Quieter. I used to paint, see friends. Now I mostly just manage their moods. But they’ve had such a hard life, trauma from their childhood. If I could just help them heal.
Companion: I notice you immediately went to their trauma. What about yours?
Seeker: Mine? I didn’t have trauma. My childhood was fine. I mean, my mom was insecure and depressed a lot, but I learned how to cheer her up. I was good at it.
Companion: You were good at cheering up your depressed mother.
Seeker: Yeah. I knew exactly what would work. Which TV show to suggest, what joke to make. My sister would just hide in her room, she did not take part in this game, but I could actually help.
Companion: And now you’re with someone you’re trying to help.
Seeker: That’s not… Hmm. I guess I am. But this is different. They’re actually mean to me sometimes. My mom was just sad.
Companion: What makes you stay with someone who’s mean to you?
Seeker: Because I can see who they really are underneath. Nobody else sees it, but I do. If I can just love them enough, consistently enough…
Companion: What happens if you can’t transform them?
Seeker: What do you mean?
Companion: If you leave and they stay exactly as they are. What happens to you?
Seeker: That’s not. I mean. I’d feel like I failed. Like I wasn’t enough.
Companion: Enough for what?
Seeker: Enough to… matter. If I can fix them, then I matter. If I can’t, then what’s the point of me?
Companion: When did you learn that equation? That your worth equals your ability to transform someone?
Seeker: I remember this: I was seven, maybe eight. Mom was crying again. Dad was at work. I made her laugh with this stupid dance and she said “You’re my sunshine. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And I felt important. Looking back now, it is a sad memory.
Companion: What would seven-year-old you have felt if you couldn’t cheer her up?
Seeker: Invisible. Like I didn’t exist.
Companion: And now?
Seeker: I’m still trying to exist. By fixing them. But they don’t want to be fixed, do they?
Companion: What do you think?
Seeker: No. They want me to keep trying though. It keeps me focused on them. Shit. I’m not their partner. I’m their proof that they’re worth saving. And I stay because…
Companion: Because?
Seeker: Because if I can’t save them, then that little girl who couldn’t always cheer up her mom… she was worthless. But that’s not true, is it? She was just a kid.
Companion: She was just a kid.
Seeker: I don’t know how to be in a relationship without trying to fix someone. That’s terrifying.
Companion: What else is it?
Seeker: Free? Maybe? I don’t know. It’s like there’s this whole other life where I’m not constantly monitoring someone else’s mood. Where I could just be. It feels like open space.