My world, my life is chaotic, consisting of my elderly, failing mother, a son with Schizophrenia, and a younger son struggling with life in general. Social workers, doctors, psychiatrists, group homes, nurses, therapy workers, court officers all populate my contacts and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t engage some of them. Some days, it’s overbearing and at the end of such a day, I’ll lay my head on my pillow, stare at my ceiling, engulfed in despair and pity, and wonder how I’ll survive.
Then I awake, coffee in hand, and come across a story about a young woman suffering with Cystic Fibrosis, and suddenly my problems seem minuscule in the scheme of life. I’m struck with an awareness there’s still room in my heart for others, to feel for others, and that has to be a good thing.
But there’s something else. Envy, maybe. I have friends whose lives are picture perfect, their children excel in school, their health is good, their world good and I often wonder if it all comes down to the flip of some cosmic coin? I don’t know, but I do know this, I read a story about a Claire Wineland and her daily fight for her life, I find myself strangely contemplative about our lives, thinking that there’s something more to all the suffering, the pain, that amid all the chaos, there are ties that bind us all together, regardless of what side of that coin flips for you. You deal with what comes your way, you fight to retain your empathy for others, because we’re all in this together.