Useless utility

There comes a time when being useful becomes a survival strategy. Not a gift, not a joy, but a role. And in playing that role long enough, we forget we were ever anything else. “How can I help?” becomes our instinct. “What do you need?” becomes our language.

We mistake transaction for connection, and our worth becomes quietly tied to how much we do. 

We become utility. Valued not for who we are, but for how we serve. And slowly, invisibly, our humanity is exchanged for function.

But what happens when usefulness is no longer needed? When the roles shift, the caretaking ends, or the validation dries up? When we are finally asked to just be and we panic, because being feels foreign and unproductive?

This is the grief of the helper. The exhaustion of the achiever. The heartbreak of those who’ve been rewarded for over-functioning and forgotten how to rest in their own existence.

This is useless utility, when your usefulness no longer serves you, and yet you can’t stop offering it.

You are not your function: 

You are not your emotional labor. You are not the fixer, the rescuer, the reliable one, unless you choose to be. Utility without reciprocity breeds resentment, and usefulness without identity breeds disconnection. There is sacred value in your presence, even when you’re not helping. Even when you’re not producing. Even when you’re still.

To unhook your worth from your usefulness is radical. To feel lovable when you're not needed is revolutionary., and to live from that place is the beginning of wholeness.

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