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There she sits atop her throne. It may as well be made of glass because every move she makes is as if it would shatter.

How did she get here? Did she choose to sit atop it or was it naturally engrained into her every fiber? Overseeing everything around her, being on the lookout for anything that seems off-kilter.

Some days she resents sitting atop this pedestal. She is tired and wonders what it would be like if she were to ease up a little bit and something were to fall apart. But then she’d need to deal with the guilt, so it is easier to just maintain that control, to work herself to the bone making sure nothing falls apart for others.

You see, as the guard to the fortress, she cannot slip up–then no one would trust her. She cannot slip up–then she’d seem lazy. She cannot slip up–these people depend on her.

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She gets lost in her thoughts for a few minutes but then snaps back to reality with all the things that need to get done, the priorities, and then someone needs her, and she is there.

Some days she feels more like the dragon guarding the castle: full of fire, but bitterness and resentment fuel that fire inside her. She often wonders . . . Do others feel this way? Why is it okay for others to slip up, to not pull their weight? Why is it that she bears all the burden on her shoulders? What would it be like to not care for a day or two?

From the view up here, she can see everything–she notices the specks, the blemishes, the threat of something happening before it does. She wonders if that is what she fears most, the outside looking back in.

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So here she is, on this quest that just fell upon her–to shield others from feeling pain, fear, failure, guilt. She can guard them. But though this pedestal spins, and she can rotate with each new request, she begins saying yes to so much more because she thinks saying no would make her look bad–uncooperative, unable, and she won’t be associated with the cannots.

She is spinning faster with each turn until she is getting dizzy, nearly out of control. That won’t be good because then she won’t be able to keep view and be the lookout for the important stuff.

She takes a deep breath and adjusts herself back onto the pedestal, looking around, regaining her balance. To her surprise, nothing fell apart in that time. She restored a sense of clarity and can still see beyond her.

Give yourself some grace, pedestal sitters! After all, it gets lonely up there at the top.

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Brittany Heaward

Brittany lives in Southern Maine with her two daughters. She works in higher education and enjoys spending time with family, reading, writing, New England sports, being outdoors, and home decorating. She is a blend of realism and sarcasm. It is her passion to share her life experiences in writing, in an attempt to help readers through their own personal circumstances. Her motto: Always keep smiling!

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