Friend,
You are both empty and brimming over,
Pulled from every direction,
Taxed,
Patience worn thin,
Stretched over too many days and nights and days and nights and days and nights.
This is the part where you don't recognize yourself.
You might act in ways that surprise you and then rack you with regret and shame.
So let's go find you.
Sometime,
You were young,
Innocent,
You made mistakes,
Spilled,
Soiled,
Ruined,
And not a bit of it made a dent in your value as a human being.
That remains unchanged.
No matter what you do,
For better or worse,
You cannot add or take away from your immeasurable,
Inherent worth.
Sometime,
Clear out in the distance,
There is another version of you.
Wise,
Worn,
Learned,
Evolved.
This you has weathered many storms,
Built castles and had them dashed to pieces,
Only to start again and again.
This one is filled with life,
With losses and gains,
With unforgettable moments,
And ones wished forgotten,
But kept.
This you has miles on your soul.
Hoarding the curtain of time,
They gather you into their arms,
Brush away tears,
Peer into your eyes with an offering.
They know.
They see you as weary instead of weak,
Spent instead of worthless,
Tarnished,
Not corroded.
There is gratitude in their eyes.
They could not reach this degree of glory without having been you now.
At this moment,
You are clearing the way,
Tilling and planting and caring for the seedlings of this future.
It is truly exhausting.
They know.
They remember.
They need you just as much as you need to know they exist.
It gets better.
There is another side to this,
A harvest so rich,
It will feed you in a way that satisfies your deepest hunger.
This work you do,
This stretching and botching and fixing,
It matters.
You matter.
You are doing so much more,
So much better than you can possibly imagine.
