The following post is an entry for a contest being held by You Are Enough, hosted by Positive Writer.
I noticed her from across the room and I recognized the pain that emanated from her face. I wanted to save her from the burden of knowing that the support and encouragement she craved would never come from the people who meant the most to her. She reflected all of my own doubts and fears that I have held for most of my life.
The love and emotional support she sought from others she couldn’t find even from herself, and I found myself being drawn to her. If nobody else could hug her and comfort her, I, somebody who cared about her, wanted to be the one to give a warm embrace.
The pain that welled up from the bottom of her soul stretched out beyond her arms and spilled onto each page. The release was palpable and voluminous. I tried to tell her, “Can’t you see that you are not an empty vessel? Look what you’ve achieved!”
But she could see only blood splatter and with nobody other than me to tell her she was worth the words she wrote, she climbed inside herself to protect herself from the pain of knowing she could find comfort only from herself.
As I wrapped my arms around her and wiped away her tears, I said, “You may never be able to rely upon the people you want to believe in you. You might have to look to me for comfort.”
Those were harsh words for her to swallow. Her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip quivered.
“So you have to find faith in yourself.” I hoped my words comforted her. But maybe she needed more. Maybe she needed, not only to know, but also to remember, that she was worthwhile.
I asked her to reflect on words of encouragement she received from former English teachers, who applauded her writing skills and enjoyed them so much they read aloud some of her work to the class. I asked her to pay attention to the little joys in her life and to be proud of her accomplishments. I asked her to look into the eyes of people who truly made her feel loved, to see in their eyes what I wanted her to see in herself.
Did I just see a glimmer of hope?
Maybe it didn’t matter that the people she wanted to believe in her couldn’t or wouldn’t. But somebody did. Other people believed in her. And maybe that motivation and a belief in herself was enough.
As I neared the mirror, I looked more deeply into her eyes. “You are enough,” I told her. “You are more than enough.” And with that I wept with gratitude.