REBUILD: When Helping Is An Impulse

I am trying to highlight the good parts of this project, trying to keep it positive. Trying to joke as much as I cry.

This project is tearing me up inside most days because I know who i am in the inside. I KNOW it. My circumstances don’t match though.

I feel guilty for being here and being a journalist while these women have such little hope for themselves or resolving situations and I can’t help.

I feel like a little mouse unable to save the baby mice.

I feel so sad right now. But I’m trying to focus on my project.

I didn’t try to be so involved with the homeless lifestyle. I just became homeless to show that I could rebuild. Then I met them one by one, women with hopes, sincere smiles, sad stories.

I met them and I loved them.

I hugged them and I wanted to help them. I couldn’t.

I can’t.

And i hate that I think of myself during the nights when all I long for is a pair of arms to wrap around me and wake me up from this dream.

I feel guilty for wanting a kiss.

I feel guilty for knowing each and every day that one day this experience will be a memory for me. I’m not stuck. I don’t know HOW to get out but I will. That’s what I do.

Nothing is permanent. There’s something for me to do here. I can’t see what it is or how I’ll get it done. The problems these women face are problems that I can’t fix- not by myself.

I won’t try to carry the burden but in my heart I do anyway.

That’s the way I am. Sometimes I wish I could just walk by and not help or care or be concerned but I can’t.

I don’t know why I was made this way.

Helping is an impulse.

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