Angi

Nights were hard for me. Like, really hard. I spent most of them awake, then zombied through my days trying to function like a normal human being. For days at a time, I would go with no sleep at all. 

My one saving grace was when I would hear that little door open on AOL Instant Messenger and see the notification - Angi has signed on. 

Angi is here. 

I wasn't spelling her name right, but that's how someone else spelled it for me, so it stuck. (We laughed about that later.) Angi was my youth pastor's wife. We had only recently met, during a really rough patch in my life. My dad died after we had known each other just a few weeks, and the aftermath was...heavy. She wasn't really responsible for me, but she cared. And I felt like every night, she was logging on that late just for me. 

I always waited for her to say something first. And she always did. Then, we would talk deep into the darkness and for those few hours of my tortured nights, I would not be alone. 

We didn't solve any problems. We didn't fix the world. Heck, we didn't even fix me. But there we were, attached to our respective computers long past the hour when both of us should have been in bed, and I wasn't alone.

Whenever I'm tempted to walk away from someone in need, whenever I think more about myself than someone else, whenever it seems wiser to, metaphorically, go to bed, I think of all of those nights. Those nights when Angi was tired, when she'd had a long day, when she had her own family to tend to, her own responsibilities, her own schedules, her own desires, and I think of how much it meant to me to see her log on any way. To see that door open. To have that first message pop up. 

I think of how much it changed my darkest nights to not be alone, and I remember that she could have only an inkling of how deep those nights were for me. And yet, she knew enough simply to keep showing up.

This world tells us to take care of ourselves, at the cost of everyone and everything else. It tells us that if we don't have self-care, we can't care for anyone else. But a lot of folks use this as an excuse to be selfish and to never have time for anyone else. 

But you make self-care a routine so that when someone else's world goes dark, you can show up and be the light for awhile without burning out. Even if you're tired. Even if you'd rather be in bed. Even if you have your own stuff to worry about. Self-care isn't self-centered; it's other-centered, so that you can be there when someone else is desperately waiting for you to log on.  

So I take care of myself so that I can show up. Then, I show up. I show up because she showed up for me and because I know what it's like when someone does that. 

We maybe won't solve any problems. We won't fix the world. We might not even fix you. But I'll be there. 

Aidan has signed on.