I received a call recently. From an old friend. In tears. Contemplating . . . everything.
Take a deep breath. She is safe.
But she said something to me in those moments of turmoil. She called herself weak. And, really, I couldn’t argue, because it was 2 a.m. And she was overwhelmed. And we were both tired. And she was depressed on top of that. Surely, if only from carrying that burden, she was weak. But, I couldn’t just agree.
Because, the thing is, her weakness – the weakness of exhaustion, the weakness of fear – was real. AND it was temporary. It was something we have all experienced – in moments of panic, in nights of exhaustion. Yes, her weakness was at an extreme – and she is now safe – but her weakness wasn’t foreign, and it wasn’t innate. It was natural. And transient.
And by the strength to hang in there, her weakness is something she’ll beat.
This letter posted with permission of a dear friend. ‘Because you are a writer,’ she says, ‘and today, I am a muse.’
© 2017 Mirissa D. Price: A Dental Student, A Writer, A Journey to Share.