WillPower

To Will,

(and to everyone else who’s stayed through this)

I know this season has stretched long. Three years. Three years of court dates and crisis management, of documenting instead of dissolving, of surviving systems that pretend neutrality while enabling harm.

And maybe, even if you haven’t said it out loud, you’ve felt it:

“Shouldn’t this be over by now?”

“Why is she still in it?”

“What do I even say anymore?”

The truth is, I feel it too. Sometimes I want to turn away from it all myself but I can’t. Because I’m in it. And I’m holding the line not just for myself, but for my children. For truth. For every woman who comes after me.

And what I want you to know, what I need you to know, is this:

You don’t have to fix it. You don’t have to solve it, shortcut it, or even fully understand it. I know it’s outside your realm. I know it leaves you feeling helpless.

My friend Will wrote me something recently that broke me open:

“I’ve always felt I have to fix things. What you’re going through is so outside my ability and it leaves me lost.”

And that, right there, is the honesty that heals. Not a solution. Not a rescue. Just presence. Just love that doesn’t flinch in the face of what it can’t control.

I responded the only way I knew how:

“No one can fix this. I just have to endure it. I don’t understand the grander plan here, but I trust that there is one. You help me so much just by loving me and seeing me and making me feel like who I am and what I put out there matters.”

Because that’s the truth. You don’t have to be a fixer. You just have to be someone who stays.

Someone who doesn’t retreat when it gets messy. Someone who doesn’t look away just because the story has lasted longer than they hoped. Someone who says,

“I don’t have the answer, but I’m not going anywhere.”

That is how we survive. That is how we heal. The fatigue you feel is real. But so is the power of your presence.

I don’t need you to save me. I’m not waiting to be rescued. I’m walking myself home.

But it means everything to have someone standing at the edge of the storm saying: I see you. I believe you. I’m still here. And I’m glad you are too.

If you’ve been that person, even once, thank you.

You don’t have to fix me. You just have to love me through it. And you are. ❤️❤️❤️