I Don't Need More Stuff. I Need Someone To Ask How I'm Doing and Wait for the Answer.
I Don't Need More Stuff.
I Need Someone To Ask How I'm Doing and Wait for the Answer.
Pull up a chair, friend.
I've been thinking about something lately.
Which, as we've established before, is usually how I end up emotionally ambushed by a commercial about paper towels.
The older I get, the more I realize something.
Most of us don't need more stuff.
We need more people.
Not crowds.
Not followers.
Not people who "like" our photos and keep scrolling.
I mean real people.
The kind who ask, "How are you doing?"
And then don't immediately start talking about themselves before you answer.
The kind who actually wait.
The kind who listen.
The kind who notice when your smile seems a little heavier than usual.
Because if we're being honest, a lot of us have become masters of saying we're fine.
We're so good at it we should receive certificates.
How are you?
Fine.
Everything okay?
Fine.
Need anything?
Nope. I'm fine.
Meanwhile you're one unexpected inconvenience away from packing your belongings into a lawn chair and disappearing into the woods.
But sure.
Fine.
I've noticed something about people over fifty.
We've become the strong ones.
The dependable ones.
The helper.
The listener.
The caretaker.
The emergency contact.
The person who remembers birthdays.
The person who checks on everybody else.
The person who asks how everyone is doing.
But every now and then I wonder...
Who's checking on us?
Who's asking the helper how they're holding up?
Who's checking on the strong friend?
Who's calling the caregiver?
Who's making sure the listener gets heard?
Sometimes it feels like we've spent so many years being everything to everybody that we've forgotten we're allowed to need people too.
And friend, if you've been feeling that way lately...
I see you.
I hear you.
I understand.
Because loneliness doesn't always look like being alone.
Sometimes loneliness is sitting in a room full of people and feeling invisible.
Sometimes loneliness is carrying worries you don't want to burden anyone else with.
Sometimes loneliness is realizing your children have grown up, built beautiful lives, and don't need you the same way they once did.
Sometimes loneliness is simply wishing someone would call without needing something.
Just once.
Just because.
The truth is, life gets quieter in ways nobody warns you about.
The house gets quieter.
The phone gets quieter.
The calendar gets quieter.
And some days, so do we.
But here's what I've learned.
Quiet doesn't mean forgotten.
It doesn't mean unloved.
It doesn't mean unimportant.
It just means life changes.
And change can feel lonely.
That's one of the reasons I started Rustic Roots Pantry.
Not because the internet desperately needed another recipe.
Trust me.
The internet is doing just fine in the casserole department.
I created this space because I know there are people out there who are carrying things quietly.
People who laugh so they don't cry.
People who show up for everybody else.
People who need a place where they don't have to pretend they've got it all together.
A place where someone says:
"Me too."
Because sometimes the most healing words in the world aren't advice.
They're simply:
"You're not the only one."
So if you're reading this today while drinking coffee, sitting in your car, hiding from your responsibilities for five minutes, or pretending to fold laundry while scrolling your phone...
I want you to know something.
You matter.
Not because of what you do for other people.
Not because of what you accomplish.
Not because of how strong you've been.
You matter because you're you.
Period.
And if nobody has checked on you lately, consider this your check-in.
How are you doing?
Really.
Not the polite answer.
The real one.
Because around here, we don't just ask.
We care.
And friend, if this blog felt a little too personal...
If you found yourself nodding your head, laughing, crying, or whispering, "Well dang, that's me"...
Then you've found your people.
Do yourself a favor.
Follow along here at Rustic Roots Pantry.
Join us on social media.
Pull up a chair and stay awhile.
Because life is hard enough without doing it alone.
And around here?
There's always room for one more at the table.
Love,
Mama T ❤️
Professional Sweet Tea Drinker
Collector of Stories
And Firm Believer That Everybody Needs Someone Who Checks In Just Because