So Close, So Far

I understand how it feels to be powerless. Sometimes, the hurts aren't things you can fix. Sometimes, the reasons your loved ones suffer are unknown. I am so close to my friends, my sisters of the heart, that holding out my hand to them feels like everything I can do, and yet not enough. These girls, these women, are so strong; the strongest people, after all, are those who can smile at the little things, and whose hearts haven't been hardened by the big, tough things.

I wish I knew the words to let them know that the tunnel, the darkness, the sadness and defeat and confusion doesn't last forever. But we struggle in different ways; we come from different places, different worlds and views. The common ground we've built is strong enough to weather any storm, but our storms are unique.

I know I love them both, and that I would bleed if I thought blood would save them. But that's not helpful. That's just words.

I remember how it feels. I don't remember how it feels for them, but I remember feeling worthless and beaten down, a pawn of the world - and an unimportant pawn at that. I remember feeling like a failure. I still sometimes feel like a failure.

Those memories bring me close to them; so close, and yet so far. Everyone always pretends (and I'm guilty of this myself) that nothing takes any effort. That's a lie. Do you hear me, you two? That. Is. A. Lie. It all takes effort. Living takes effort. Failing takes effort. Overcoming the sense that you're failing takes incredible effort. It's up to you to decide if what you have, or what you can have, is worth expending that effort.

No one can tell you to expend that effort. Not me, not the school, not your parents, not the president or the military or God. No one but you can tell you to live, love, laugh, cry, do or die. I promise you that. It's terrifying to realize you are in control. It sucks sometimes when you screw up and you want to blame someone, but it's only you.

Do not blame yourself. Stop it right now, both of you. Stop, pause, rewind, listen. Listen to yourselves.

I had to hurt myself before I learned that it's ok to cry. I had to cry in the dark for years before I learned that it's ok to cry in the light. Cry, loves. Eventually you'll start to laugh. Let it go. Let it out. Scream. Throw something. Sob. Swear. Run. I tried running from my problems. I tried screaming. I tried the most passive form of action: dying. You can absolutely do what I did; I'm not sure that I would have listened if someone told me what I'm trying to tell you. But I'll never know. I'll never remember.

It feels like work and the world control your lives; don't let them. Give work and the world faces and personalities. Are they bullies? Control freaks? Parents? Overachieving classmates? Overly helpful friends? If they have faces, they have personalities, and they have something you can push against. Work and the world do not own you. You own them. You walk them beside you like well-heeled dogs. You look them in the eye and say, "This is my life. I understand my choices and what they mean. You won't make me feel guilty for choosing myself over you. I am Me, and I want to know Me without you."

It sounds silly. It sounds childish. It might even sound impossible. Pick something easy. Boss your cat around. Make your stuffed animal into a Homework Nazi. Practice saying No. Sing it in the shower. Run to its rhythm. Beat a pillow, kick a ball. Crumple up piece after piece of paper. Throw the squishy. Talk at someone. (Not to someone, but AT someone.)

It will be ok. I promise. I promise you that. The only way it won't be ok is if you give in.
Just remember: giving in isn't giving up or changing course. Giving in is doing nothing at all.

WolfGrrl