Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water

So…this week has been trying. One of those weeks of being a counselor when I wonder if I am truly strong enough to hold the hope, be the bridge, or provide the space in a way that is not going to completely pull me under like an ocean’s undertow that sneaks up on you, but is powerful enough to wash you out to sea. I wonder sometimes…do I have enough hope, enough space, enough time, energy, enough of me to give? It’s hard to tell someone their daughter is sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night and holding a knife to her chest, wondering if she will be able to “go through with it” this time…especially when the daughter is only 9. It is tough to watch a child so filled with angst that he flees his classroom and the school building running toward home, toward something that feels safer. It is hard to tell a student that she may not be ready to be a counselor at this time in her life. And it is incredibly hard to watch someone you love slowly distance themselves from you, from everyone. All in a week’s time. I sit here, sitting, breathing, thinking, writing, feeling depleted…like there is not much left to give. I think about other people in my life who probably feel this same sense of having given every ounce they have to give and then plopping down on the couch, in the bed, on the floor, hoping never to have to move a muscle again. And I think about the times when I have felt this way before…it never lasts long, maybe hours. Then I am inspired to do some more good, spread some more hope, be the strength for those who are unable to be strong right now, the voice for those young voices that are often unheard, the safe person for someone to talk to. And when it is all said and done, I wouldn’t have it any other way.