Vulnerable.

When we are weak, and exposed, and ask for assistance, it is how we are reacted to, that speaks volumes about those around us.

It is how we are treated at our very lowest, that writes a testimony to those who surround us.

A task they didn't expect to endure.

One, I am sure, I hope they know, that I didn't want to partake in either.

Or at least pray, they knew.

But there we all are.

In a shit storm.

Finding yourself desperately in need.

On the floor.

Crying.

Desperate for salvation.

Needing an ear.

A hand up.

Struggling.

Finding sadness at every turn..

Desperate for a hug.

Help.

It is in these moments, when we reach out, and are turned away, that pens their biographies more than ours.

It speaks to their character.

Their path and preferences.

Their story.

Their truth.

The way you are handled in a crisis, telling..

Mishandled.

At times, manhandled.

Seeing who shows up, and who runs away.

Meeting strangers, who prove themselves better allies than those you have always thought to have been.

Revisiting players who were always silently there, in the wings, waiting to be noticed.

People, who are in fact, all that you ever wanted, and needed, but never knew.

Those who were in the trenches with you the whole time, but went unnoticed.

Quietly supplying you.

Life has an amazing way of showing what you need.

And what you don't.

I wake up without regrets, do you?

I hope you don't.

Xoxo,

C.