It's not fun being the strong one. Slap me on the back and congratulate me all you want, commend me for how brave I'm being, or how independent I am, thank me for all that I do, it doesn't change that this is lonely work. That it's tiring. And that, just once, I wish I had someone checking in on me, and asking me out to coffee to talk about how life's actually going.

From the moment I was born I was stamped "spirited," and the moment my sister passed I was labeled "strong." Want to know how weird it is to have adults that look up to you and peers that place you in an "other" category, right in between "mature" and "respected?" Because that's where I'm at, and I don't really feel like I can fit into either group, at this point.

Believe me, I am honored that God has given me a strength and passion for reaching out to others while having the ability to be able to pick myself up from the ground and keep walking, but I just want some grace. Grace to be the age I am, 20, and not be treated as other. Grace to not always be the go-to leader, of every situation. Grace to fall apart, and let those expectations of strength placed upon me crash to the ground, because I'm very much so human, and I can't stand trying to act otherwise.

I've told myself I'm not trying to live up to the expectations of others, but when you have an uncanny ability to not rely on anyone else and act like you know what you're doing, people pick up on it. They start looking to you for answers, and you're happy to provide them with what you've discovered so far, but all you have after that is sympathy and love. And my god, I have this for people. But a combination of strength and love for people kind of makes for a disaster for yourself.

Because you start to forget that you can't pick yourself up from the ground every time and keep walking. The bruises from earlier falls add up, and your body's taken too many hits by now, and so you can't help but collapse out of sheer exhaustion and neglect. But then people you love need you. And the expectations and responsibilities of life carry on without you. And so I have tied a rope to my waist and have secured the other end somewhere ahead, and every time my legs give out, I pull upon the rope, and I refuse to fall down.

Sometimes I wonder why no one sees the rope. People might ask me how I'm doing, and perhaps it is my fault that I answer automatically, but I have learned, to get a real answer, you must press someone. Why is it no one ever presses me? I am wrong, I know, to assume that everyone has a heart like mine, but shouldn't there be at least one in the bunch gutsy enough to ask me why I seem foggy and distant?

I don't blame anyone in particular. I think what it comes down to is that I am ministering, and living a life of day-to-day ministry (because I am a product of my parents) and yet I barely feel ministered to. The individuals who have fed into and invested in me, are almost always older, and sometimes it feels like they're "supposed to." I can count on my hands the times I have been reached out to, by my peers, and I wonder if it truly is that rare. Or maybe people think that when you're strong, you don't need help. Or that, people that have a need, wear their need on their sleeve.

Well, I wear a smile on my face and a rope secured around my hips and no one seems to question there's something off. We're all busy in our lives; we don't all look or have hearts for those in pain. I just am sick of having the only real thoughts about my life be written down for myself. And I apologize, I can be hard to crack sometimes, I am transparent, but I don't share much, and some of that goes back to losing my one and only confidant.

But I get the sense that no one actually cares like I do. That even if I were to share, that individual across from me's eyes would start wandering, and my voice would fade off, and what's the point of sharing then? Sure, I need counseling, everyone does, and I've done it the last few years. But there's something to be said about having people your age give a fuck about your life. And sometimes I wish people cared as much as I did and do. Even if they faked it.

So I'm sitting here in my room falling apart, and it's raining. Yes, I'm being dramatic, but it is nice to know that this is going out into the world and that a few people will actually be aware of these thoughts of mine. Sure, there may be a few exaggerations, but there's something to be said here, something valid in this ramble.

So thanks friends for reading, and I wish you a good day.