I’ve always been that person,
The one who drops everything.
Whether it’s mid-meal, mid-prayer, or mid-plan,
I just show up.
No questions asked.
No delays.
Just a simple, “Where are you?” and I’m already halfway there.
At times, I’ve cancelled dreams for people.
Other times, I rescheduled peace.
Even more often, I paused my own healing.
Why? Because someone needed me,
and somehow, that always felt like enough.
However, when it’s me…
when my world is cracking,
and my hands are shaking from holding it all in,
they’re busy.
They say,
“Give me a minute.”
“I’m caught up.”
“I wish I could, but not right now.”
And even then, I understand.
After all, I always understand.
That’s the part that stings the most.
I’m the one they run to when things fall apart.
When the lights go off in their lives,
they find comfort in mine.
Because somehow, I always have room.
But when I need someone to just listen,
to pick up without thinking,
to sense that I’m not okay,
no one seems to be available.
Not immediately.
Not until it’s convenient.
Honestly, it hurts.
Not because I expect a reward,
but because deep down,
I hoped to be someone’s emergency too.
Still, I’m learning.
I’m learning that just because you show up for people
doesn’t mean they’ll do the same.
And while that realization breaks something soft inside me,
it also builds something stronger.
Because now, I know,
I must learn to show up for myself first.
From this point on, I must become my own 911.
Even if no one picks up,
I won’t drop the call on me.
Meanwhile, I’ll hold on to hope.
Hope that one day,
someone will come,
not because they need what I offer,
but simply because it’s me.
And that,
will be enough.
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