*For anyone who is struggling and feels as if nobody else understands exactly what you are going through.*
I see you.
You’re near, but not close. I can see and hear you, but I can’t reach out. I can’t grab your hand, hug you, or feel your energy, but I see where you stand.
I see you. You look like me. A mix of despair and hope fills your expression. It’s a strange combination but one that I understand all too well. It’s like being at the bottom of a well and knowing the multiple ways out, but also knowing that you’ve lived this long in the well and to leave it would be terrifying.
Nobody else can help us out. Only we can pull ourselves up to the surface. This is true for everyone who lives on their own personal island; this is the reason you exist there and I exist here and neither of us exist in the larger world. Not for now.
I can’t help you out, and I can’t tell you which path is the right one. I can listen to you deliberate, understand when you don’t want to leave, and encourage you when you start your climb, but I do this from my island, and you can do the same for me from yours.
I wonder, dear friend, if just knowing that you are there is enough. Does having the knowledge that I am not alone in struggle, though alone in my specific struggle, dim the isolation?
Because I can see you struggling, does it make it easier knowing that you can see me struggling? Even if we can’t touch, is it a better existence for both of us because we are not staring off into an endless ocean?
I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel strongly one way or the other because it changes moment to moment. But for now, friend, in this moment, I choose to believe that yes, it is easier. I choose to believe that having an island next to my own is better than sitting alone. I hope you feel the same, at least for now, at least enough to give you some strength to climb your well. I hope to see you at the top, and together we can walk side by side towards a newer us.