Growing up, I never realized how heavy the world could feel. These days, it’s like carrying a backpack full of rocks, each one a worry or fear I can’t shake off. As a young girl, that load feels even heavier sometimes. I look around and see systems that seem rigged against people like me, making it tempting to just give up. I’ve spent nights glued to my phone, scrolling through Instagram, trying to drown out the noise in my head with endless posts and stories. I’ve called up exes at 2am, desperate for any connection. I’ve even thought about buying a one-way ticket to somewhere, anywhere else. Anything to not feel this…heaviness.
It took me way too long to figure out that running away wasn’t the answer. Neither was trying to tough it out alone. For years, I bought into this idea that I had to handle everything by myself. That asking for help was weak. Man, was I wrong. The real lifeline? It’s the people around us. It’s in grabbing coffee with a friend and laughing so hard you snort your drink. It’s in those late-night talks where you bare your soul and realize you’re not the only one struggling. It’s in the quiet moments, sitting side by side with someone who gets it, without having to say a word.
I remember the day it hit me. I was having a really rough time – work sucked, my dating life was a mess, and the news was just one awful story after another. I was curled up on my couch, feeling sorry for myself, when my phone buzzed. It was Sarah, an old friend I hadn’t talked to in forever. “Hey, you okay? Wanna grab a drink?” That night, I spilled my guts to Timi. And you know what? She didn’t run away. She didn’t give me some cheesy, “It’ll all work out” speech. She just listened. Then she shared her own stuff. By the time we stumbled home, I felt lighter than I had in months.
After that, I made a real effort to nurture my friendships. I joined a community garden, thinking I’d just grow some tomatoes. Instead, I grew a whole new circle of friends. We bonded over stubborn weeds and the pride of our first harvests. But more than that, we shared our lives. Our hopes, our fears, our stupid jokes. I learned that disagreements don’t have to mean the end of a friendship. In my book club, we argue all the time about characters and plot twists. But those heated debates often lead to real talks about our own lives and beliefs. It’s not always comfortable, but man, it’s worth it.
Being kind isn’t about grand gestures. It’s remembering how your friend likes their coffee. It’s sending a dumb meme when you know they’re having a crappy day. It’s just…being there. Don’t get me wrong – the world still feels like a dumpster fire some days. My own problems didn’t magically disappear. But now, I don’t face them alone. I’ve got my people. My tribe. I’ve learned it’s okay to not be okay sometimes. To say, “Hey, I’m struggling.” Because when I open up, it gives others permission to do the same. We can’t read minds – sometimes we need to spell it out for each other.
The big problems – in our lives and in the world – they won’t fix themselves. The stuff that keeps us up at night? We won’t figure it out by isolating ourselves. We’ve gotta do it together, holding each other up, ready to face whatever comes next.
So here’s what I’ve learned: Reach out. Connect. Be kind to yourself and others. Share the good stuff and the hard stuff. In a world that can feel cold and uncaring, be the warmth someone else needs. It’s not about big, showy acts of kindness. It’s the little things – a text, a hug, a shared laugh – that get us through the tough times and make the good times even better.
We’re all in this mess together. Might as well hold hands and dive in, right?
