Still Here
Maybe that's enough for tonight
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Some days I feel like I'm getting somewhere—like I'm actually helping, like I'm making a difference somehow.
Other days I'm just hanging on with my eyes closed. Terrified and desperately trying to hold on for dear life.
And then there are those particularly hard days where I think maybe if I was to just let go—and slip away into the darkness—maybe that would solve everything. Maybe that's somehow the answer. Because on days like this the only thing I'm sure of is that I don't know what the hell I'm doing.
I'm not sharing any of this for attention and certainly not for pity. I'm saying it because it's all true. And I know I can't be the only one who's felt this way.
The thing is, I've never been the kind of person to ask for help. I usually at least think I know what I'm doing. But here lately it just keeps getting harder and harder. Growing up, I never had someone that I trusted that I could ask for help.
I remember once when my son was little, about 8 weeks old. He was such a perfect baby—always so good. Until this one night, he cried and cried. Nothing I did helped. I fed him. Burped him. Bathed him. Rocked him. Walked him. Sang to him. Everything I could think of. But he just kept crying.
It was 2:30 in the morning. And now I'm crying too, because I don't know what to do. In that moment the only thing I could think of was to call my 'mother' —who was never really motherly. She didn't have a great mother either, so for that I had always tried to give her grace. But I finally caved and ended up calling her, thinking maybe she had some motherly advice to offer, some magic suggestion that would fix everything.
"Mom, I don't know what's wrong with him, but no matter what I do, I can't get him to stop crying."
Her only words to me: "I did it by myself. You'll do it by yourself." And she hung up on me.
Honestly, I don't even know why I bothered to call her. She had never been there for me. She kicked me out when I was barely 15—to live with a man she knew beat on me. I've been doing life alone since I can remember. I guess I just wanted to believe I had a mom—someone on my team. Even though I've never really had anyone who showed me unconditional love or support.
I'm guessing that's why I don't ask for help now. I know for sure it's a large part of why I don't trust people. Not because I'm broken—but because I learned early that reaching out and asking for help only gets me let down and ultimately reminded that I'm alone in this world.
I truly wish I had the answers for why this world is so cruel. I just wish I knew how to wake the world up. Just to simply make everyone understand that we're all connected. That there's enough for everyone. That kindness doesn't cost anything and yet has such a profound impact.
I keep hearing people say there's no bad or evil—just two ends of a spectrum. And I guess that makes sense, in theory. But when you're on the wrong end of that spectrum? It sure doesn't feel like a spectrum. It feels like suffering. And the people on the opposite end? They don't seem to notice a damn thing.
I'm sure those throughout history who have suffered at the hands of slavery, or the genocide of Native peoples, or those suffering now in the Middle East—they look at the ones causing the suffering and feel like there's a clear difference between right and wrong. Not just A vs. B. Not only an interpretation. But a distinct difference between good and bad, right and wrong.
And maybe that's why I'm so damn sad. Because at the end of the day, I don't have a neat ending for this. I don't have the answers we need. I don't have a way to actually fix the greed and corruption of the world. But for now? I'm still here. Still hanging on with my eyes closed. Still hoping for something to change. And for the kind, gentle souls of the world to not have to suffer anymore.
Maybe writing this is part of it. Maybe putting it on paper will help me make better sense of it all. Or maybe someone will read it and feel less alone.
I guess sharing my thoughts will just have to be enough for tonight.



This is so powerful. Thank you for your honesty. A voice crying in the darkness. I hear you and wow, does it resonate with me.
This beautiful and existentialist text is proof that you truly are part and parcel of humanity, with all the joys, wonder, anxieties and suffering this belonging can generate.
You are not dysfunctional or psychopathic, but truly human and your text surely echoes what many people (most people, maybe) go through during their life.
Your self-awareness surely made you a better mom.