Connection Between Hearts

In moments of despair,
when I feel so alone
I close my eyes,
my heartache like a heavy stone,
and I imagine others,
their pain much like my own,
together we share a bond
that’s rarely shown.
- Julie Delaney

I don’t always want to write.

I both yearn for it, and the connection it forms between our hearts, and I dread it.

The feeling of constantly being exposed and wondering if any of this has any meaning is exhausting.

But I keep showing up with my heart on my sleeve for two reasons:

What if just one person sees themselves in my words and suddenly feels a little less alone.

Wouldn’t that be enough of a reason to keep doing it?

I can’t tell you how many times someone’s words saved me. My sanity. My life.

Lyrics to a song that soothed the pain.
A poem that felt more like a friendship.
A book series that raised me like parents.

That’s why I do it.
To pay it forward.

I’m not a good writer - I know that.
I’m not trying to be.
But I am an honest writer.
And that is all it takes.

Which brings me to the second reason I write, even when it’s hard and I’d rather hide:

Because at the end of the day, the only person whose eyes I have to meet in the mirror are my own.

And to look into them without shame means choosing compassion, which is always the right answer to any question.

The world needs more compassion, by which I mean the courage to share our pain with each other.

Because you’re not the only one who is suffering.

Because when we see ourselves in others, when we realize our hearts carry the same burdens, we can feel a little less alone.

There are no easy answers to the complications of being human. There are only a few brave souls willing to say to each other, me too.

Writing Prompt:

What part of your story might help others, even if it feels too tender to share? How can you deepen your compassion in this complicated world?