I See You, Warrior.

I just wanted to say that
I see you, Warrior.

I see when you’re struggling like me.

I see when you’re absolutely trying your best and you’re getting out of bed every single day because you have a calling and a purpose.

I see when you’re feeling so alone, you feel like you’re drowning in the deepest waters, even though you thought you knew how to swim.

I see when you’re hurting and when you’re slowly losing more and more sleep and can’t seem to catch up on rest, even though you’re making sure that everyone else is getting theirs.

I see that it’s been a rough couple of days and you need to shower and that you’re starting to forget again (even though you absolutely know this) that you need to take care of yourself first before you can take care of anyone else at your best.

I see you crying alone quickly when the kids aren’t looking, or crying through your tightened teeth while holding your breath as tears roll down your cheeks when they’re in the car with you or in the same room.

I see you crying in the pantry, in the shower, in the car, in the corner of a store or in your bedroom, no matter what time of day it is.

I see you eating all the carbs some days and not eating at all some others and as much as you’re trying to be so healthy, it feels like your body is going against you.

I see you when you’re putting on your makeup but it doesn’t actually hide the way that you feel.

I see you when you’re motivated as ever to do so many things but then realize that you can’t do it all and it makes you feel sad again.

I see you doing and going and doing more just to keep your mind busy and focused so it doesn’t dwell in only the pain.

I see you hugging and telling people you’re ‘fine’ on the days you’re really not and then feel instantly sad when you part because you didn’t actually say how you feel… only knowing that if you did really talk about it right then, it would have just been a sob fest.

I see you on the days when your mind doesn’t seem to work correctly, completely blurred and pained and you’d rather just lie down and curl up in a ball.

I see you on the days when all you can do is think about a diagnosis, it’s safety precautions and the outcome while struggling so bad simply knowing that it’s completely out of your control. Remember, we need to take ‘one day at a time.’

I see you on the mornings when you open just one eye on accident and wish you hadn’t been able to wake up yet. I also see you on the days you get up and going and are feeling so happy and good and ready to take on the world, I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.

I see you reading your bible verses and then having to stop on some days because you’re wondering ‘Why?… Just why?!’

I see you doing so much research, trying to process and grieve and still at the same time try and be happy and grateful and just live.

I see you trying to bring any ounce of hope into what seems like such a cloister phobic space.

I see you on the days when you’re not alone, you’re surrounded by so many wonderful people… but you feel so alone.

I see you accepting other people’s offers but won’t ask for actual help when you need it.

I see you and all of your financial strain.

I see you losing your friendships or relationships because you’re on a different level of living now that some just may not understand.

I see you being so positive and uplifting to others (because that’s truly who you are) but in your heart you don’t quite feel like that person, you’re hurting and slowly healing, just like everyone else.

I see you, Warrior.
You are not alone.

I see you.
I see you.
I see you.

In honor of Owen’s Story: Sanfilippo Syndrome MPS IIIA and The Women Warriors Project, you may purchase this handwritten, every day reminder to take ‘one day at a time’ with us for yourself or for someone else in your life that needs it most, by visiting our shop: www.thehouseoncollegeavenue.com/the-store