Red Blood Runs Black

"All the soarings of my mind begin in my blood."
-Rainer Maria Rilke

My blood type is O, the “universal” blood type. In the past, it was generally regarded that O blood could be given to anyone. These days, it’s not always the case but I believe O blood is still safe to use in a pinch. Alternately, only other people with O blood are able to give to me, which narrows the field a bit. Although O is the most common blood type, it is the least donated. So, not only do I have to have a specific type of blood given to me but there’s not much of it to go around. And I couldn’t help but to make a correlation between my blood and my behavior. A lot of the time, I feel like I am a “universal” giver. When I was alive, I gave a lot of my time, patience, loyalty, attention, understanding, concern, compassion, counseling and a lot of love to a lot of people. I never felt like I got much of that back. I don’t blame these people, run to call them selfish or find myself bitter about it. I know none of those people intentionally denied me all the qualities I gave to them. It’s just that they had their own troubles to deal with and never realized they were taking more than they were giving. I didn’t help matters by placing myself in the position of parent rather than pal. I was always so quick to try to take care of these people in a more paternal way and I suppose that’s how most of my friends began to view me. I was the go-to guy when they had a problem. I dispensed admonishments and accolades. In some ways, it feels like my friendships have always been more like business exchanges. They came to me for a service. I had a supply of goods that was always high in demand. People always came to me for advice and encouragement, for an objective point-of-view or reassurance. Everyone was always quick to purchase a product but never solicited a sale of their own.

I have to wonder, are other O people like this? Does our blood dictate our direction? Are we a slave to the sauce that sloshes within us? Do we have a choice in the matter or is our behavior, our personality, so ingrained in us that we have no other choice but to give in to the blood? All of my life, I’ve given and given, pulling away portions of myself and sharing them with those around me. Along the way, I lost my sense of self, forgot that I also mattered, that I needed to do some taking of my own. And I’m beginning to see it’s not selfish to realize that. Life is all about the give and the take and we should take freely as long as we don’t get gluttonous. We should also realize that when we don’t need to take, we should be giving back. And I never wanted to take too much because I didn’t want to be selfish, didn’t want to put my needs before anyone else’s. While I think it’s a noble notion, it’s also quite naïve because one day I looked down at myself and realized all that giving had emptied me out. Sometimes I feel like I have nothing left to offer. It leaves me feeling useless and hollow. I don’t have any more time, patience, loyalty, attention, understanding, concern, compassion, counseling, and especially no more love, to hand out anymore. All I have left to call mine is the blood that runs through my veins. And I even give that away. I just fear that when the day comes for me to need something, whether it be crimson or catharsis, if blood is any indication of circumstance, the supply will fall short.

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Everyday Entropy