Framed Myself

I thought I was being honest.
Turns out, I was being urgent.
Urgent is a frame.
I thought I was being clear.
Turns out, I was maintaining.
Maintaining is a frame.
Frames don’t ask.
They assume.
They push.
They perform.
I don’t say I’m scared.
I say I’m frustrated.
I say I’m confused.
I say I’m overwhelmed.
What I mean is:
The frame I’m in
is too small for the life I’m trying to live.
Someone asked, “How can I help?”
I didn’t know.
I framed help as failure.
As weakness.
As incompetence.
Instead of being vulnerable.
I was accurate.
Rather than tell the truth,
I deflected by drawing a map.
Naming a pattern.
Articulating accurately.
I never said I’m scared,
or I don’t know.
That frame provides me clarity
while it keeps me distant.
It keeps me safe.
It keeps me apart from.
I want to be a part of.
I want something more complete.
One that includes
not knowing, grief, and fear.
I can’t change my system
if I can’t see my frame.
If I can’t name my frame,
I am dominated by it.