I sat on the stairs this morning trying to be a calm adult and keep my patience as my three-year old was crying because he wanted to wear pants and a sweater when it was going to be 80 degrees today. And then I thought…I don’t want to. Today, I want to stomp my feet and throw myself on the ground and cry right beside him. Today, I don’t want to push through the fatigue. I don’t want to be a survivor of anything. I don’t want to be strong. Or an inspiration. Or a voice against tampons. Today, I want to be the girl I was prior to falling ill. I don’t want to be in the search for another nanny because the one I hired left. The one I trusted into my home and with the people I love the most decided that she would just stop responding to me. Would not even give me the courtesy of an “I’m quitting” text. I don’t want to be in the hunt for a new one because I still don’t trust myself enough to not have help. I don’t want to go to therapy and talk about the sad and the frustration and guilt. Today, I want to run instead of walk but I don’t. Because I can’t. I don’t want to look in the mirror and wonder if this scar will really ever fade away. I don’t want to wonder what God has planned for my future. I don’t want to think about the whys and what ifs. I don’t want to look for the positive or silver lining. I. Just. Don’t. Want. To.
But I will. There is no other option. One of my friends once said to me, “I don’t know how you do it.” I told her you just do because you do not have a choice. You can kick and punch against the walls of your limitations all day long if you want to. You really can. But to what end? You can fall into despair and scream “WHY ME?” to the heavens. Who is going to stop you? What will you gain, though? Will it make it better? If you become hard and angry, will it make it easier? If you just quit trying, will the world stop and wait for you? You don’t actually ever have to ask these questions because you know the answers in your heart. You may have moments, days, or even weeks where you slip and start to slide into the darkness. This is precisely when you reach your hand out and grab whatever your lifesaver is. It does not matter if it’s a book or a song, a pill or a prayer, your cat or dog, or another hand that’s reaching down for you just waiting for you to grab hold. You find it and you do not let go. You climb that ladder inch by inch or mile by mile until you find your way into the light again. You WILL find your way there. You are too good, and too bright, and too loved not to. You will because you deserve to. And if you ever doubt your ability or your worth; you call me right then and I will lay on the ground with you. I will crawl right beside you until you are ready to stand up and when you are standing I will help you jump. I will love you through it. Okay, self? Are you listening, heart? I will love you through it.