It could be worse

In the last month, two women I know told me stories about their lives that I swear are fit for Hollywood movies. Except that their stories were real. They were actually living difficult, almost impossible lives, everyday.

A small part of me felt sorry for them, but a big part of me was amazed at how strong they were, how much of a survivor they were despite everything that happened. Against all odds, they somehow found the strength to survive, to face life, to go on living, to smile and to laugh. I don’t know how they do it. I suspect it is some deep inner strength that they are just born with. I truly admire them. These women are the real unsung heroes who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders without expectation of sympathy nor appreciation.  Life just goes on for them. They will take whatever life throws at them.

I don’t know whether it was a coincidence that I met these two women in such a short span of time. I can’t help but think that this is God’s way of telling me that there are worse things that can happen. I know that there are worse things that can happen. I know this. I am thankful for whatever I have now, for who I am now, where I am now, how I am now. I am.

And yet I am morose most of the time. Restless sometimes. As if there is something missing. I don’t even know what it missing. I feel as if I too am carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders – except I don’t know what this weight is, or from whence it came from; but now I can’t seem to get rid of it.