If the truth be told

Last week, I received a call from a friend. I saw her number on my caller ID, but she left no message. I got busy later that evening with homework and music lessons so I decided to call her the next day when the house was less hectic.

She tried to hurt herself that night. Actually, she tried to die.

I have experienced such a wide range of emotions since I received the message that she was hospitalized. I feel sadness for her, I feel pain for her husband, I have grieved for her son, and I have a lot of love for all of them.

What I feel about me is an entirely different story.

I have always been puzzled/troubled by the concept of “healthy boundaries.” Some experts claim we need “me” time and we need to guard our personal space, etc. I understand the idea of being available to my children and how carrying the weight of the world on one set of shoulders will lead to distress.

And yet I do – carry the weight of the world, that is. There is so much pain, so much anger, so much miscommunication, so much hunger, and I feel heavy. I so grieve for my world. It is not a grief without hope, but it is a deep inside me sadness for how lost we all are. Strangely, the weight does not create lethargy, but births an urgency within me to move. And it helps me forget about me and my boundaries.

I’m not sure what to confess here, if the truth be told. I think I failed. I may feel the grief, but I failed to step into it. I failed to join it. Healing and hope won’t happen if I don’t embrace the mourning.

I’m sorry.