“I am here for you.”
We mean well when we say the words. We look at stories in the news, like Kelli Stapleton, and we say there should be awareness. We agree there needs to be hope for the hopeless. We beg each other to confess our needs and our desperation. To confess our weakness.
To simply ask for help.
I’ve been thinking about Kelli Stapleton because her name is frequently featured in my news feed. I try to imagine feeling as if I cannot live with my own child. A child who I love more than myself. A child who needs me. A child who no one else will ever care for the way I do. A child who makes me feel as if I am in a prison, and I cannot ignore the knowledge that I am already serving a life sentence. I imagine what kind of guilt and hopelessness comes with that feeling. I can only imagine, because thankfully that is not my reality.
But if it were. What is someone else going to do for me? Surely I have calculated and weighed the possibilities a thousand times, searching for the easiest path forward. Maybe my perseverance has become my identity, and that identity may be all that is keeping me moving forward at all. If I can paint a picture to the world of keeping my head above water against the odds, maybe I won’t drown. I can imagine that. Continue reading