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Hello, you. Yes, you. I can see you’re struggling; it’s not hard to tell. Your eyes tell a story of pain, hardships, and uncertainty. I can see you don’t know what to do, how to fight, or with whom to tell the truth. I can see you don’t know who to trust. Will they judge you for not being strong enough to take this on by yourself? I can see you don’t feel safe inside your own mind right now. Am I making the right choices? I can see you are confused and feeling lost.

I get it. There are so many times in life when we just don’t understand the plan. So even though I don’t know exactly what you are dealing with, I do know what it feels like to believe you are lost and alone. I know what it feels like to not know whether to turn left, right, or continue walking straight forward. Maybe I should turn around? So many choices.

Thank You For Fighting   www.herviewfromhome.com

But my letter to you doesn’t come directly from the person suffering, it comes from the person watching. Maybe you are sad, not just having a bad day, but really sad. Maybe your brain isn’t letting you “snap out of it.” Maybe your relationships are not what you believed they would be when you said “I do,” “Welcome to this world,” or even just “Hello.”

Maybe you feel trapped inside your own mind or body. Maybe you are having terrifying thoughts and you don’t understand where they are coming from, why, or what to listen to. Maybe you have been hurt…really hurt. Maybe you feel amazing one minute and horrible the next and your own mind doesn’t make sense to you. Maybe you can’t get past the past. Maybe your feelings don’t match up with the people you so desperately want them to. Maybe you lost someone you love. Maybe you can’t seem to get enough of something you hate. Maybe there are a lot of maybes in your life.

I see you. Do you know why? Because I’m your friend. I’m your husband. I’m your wife. I’m your mother, your father, your brother, your sister, your pastor, your counselor, your doctor, your cashier, your housekeeper, your grandmother, grandfather, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew… I’m right here. And I’m begging you, often silently, to open up to me. You see, I don’t know how to help you. Heck, I don’t know how to help me. Do any of us? I don’t know what to say or do to make you feel better. I don’t know if I can “fix” you, or even if it’s my place to try. I don’t know how to be what you need me to be.

But I do know that I can’t help you if you won’t let me. So for now, I just want to say, “Thank you for fighting.”

I know you don’t feel loved right now. I know you feel alone. But I want you to know that you aren’t alone and you are loved. I’m right here. And I want to be right here until God decides it is time for us to say goodbye. I’m not ready to let you go. But I don’t know how to keep you here with me both emotionally and physically. So I need you to help me help you.

Thank You For Fighting   www.herviewfromhome.com

Please let me in. Please open your eyes and see the good in your life. I am right here. God put it on my heart to talk to you. Have you seen Him trying to show you He’s walking beside you? Now He is using me to get your attention; and I’m not going to ignore Him. I can’t, not if it means losing you.

So I’ll do whatever you need me to. But remember that right now, all I know how to say is, “Thank you for fighting.”

I’ll sit with you while you cry. I’ll talk to you on the phone and not say a word if all you need is to talk out loud. I’ll fight everything in me that wants to fix. I’ll pray with you, even if I am uncomfortable with it. We can learn how to talk to God together. Maybe God is trying to help me too. Maybe there is more to life that I don’t yet understand and you will help me learn it. I’ll drive you to someone who can help you more. I’ll take you to a hospital, a counselor, church, a person – anywhere you need or want. As long as it means you are on the way to finding hope and healing…I’m in. Just tell me what you need from me.

I’m here. You’re not alone. Thank you for fighting.

I know it is hard to see the hope in your life right now. But I know you can find it, and I pray you know that I am right here to help you. I have been through hard times too. I don’t always say the right thing, do the right thing, or help in the right way. But please know that I am trying and I will continue to. I love you, everything about you.

Thank you for fighting.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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Bailey Koch

Bailey Koch is an advocate for those who can't easily advocate for themselves in every way. Married to her hottie hubby, whom has survived 5+ suicide attempts, and mom to two teenage boys, the oldest with High Functioning Autism and youngest with Epilepsy, Bailey is passionate about mental health and parenting through the messy realities. Additionally, Bailey is a Doctor of Special Education and works as an instructor at the University of Nebraska at Kearney preparing future special educators to be advocates for the learning of all. Bailey and her husband, Jeremy, have written and published two books. "Never Alone: A Husband and Wife's Journey with Depression and Faith" details their struggles with severe depression and the journey toward understanding their purpose, accepting help, and finding faith. "When the House Feels Sad: Helping You Understand Depression" is written for families, at a child's level, to open up a conversation about the reality of Depression. Follow their journey, the triumphs and the challenges, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/anchoringhopeformentalhealth and Instagram at @anchoringhopeformentalhealth.

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