87 - Anchored to the Battles I Cannot Escape

Last month, I lifted one anchor.

The homeless girl I’d been looking after finally has a roof above her head.

One more person a little safer, 

a little better off.

Just a small gesture of kindness 

but enough to change the direction of her life.

And now, 

without that weight holding me in place,

I feel myself drifting again.

I was pouring kindness into others

so I wouldn’t have to try pouring any into myself.

Helping strangers felt easier

than facing the people I truly want to help,

the ones whose pain terrifies me

because I know what it would do to me if I fail again

Without her to care for,

I’m like a boat carried by the wind,

no anchor, no direction,

just drifting toward the place I’ve been avoiding 

the place where my own struggles wait.

I’ve put myself in a position

where I can no longer hide behind distraction.

The inner demons I kept at bay

are now standing in front of me again.

The hollow feeling returns,

the numbness I use as armour

to protect my mind from fear,

from pain,

from the fight I never wanted to face.

These days, I catch myself searching

for another place to lower my anchor 

another person to help,

another life to steady,

another reason to avoid drifting

toward the one place I inevitably have to go

back into myself.

Back to the place where I have to fight

to help my brother and myself get better,

without fearing what could happen if I fail again.

Back to the shadows I once succumbed to 

the burdens that shaped who I am now.