Companionship in the Lows

Water Play by Carol Carmichael

"We're all in the same boat." It's a casual phrase, usually ironic, and has little merit to it beyond a kind of vague, half-hearted pity. It's a dismissal of complaints or a shrug of agreement. It's a way of saying, "yeah, pal, sorry you feel that way, but everyone else's lives suck too." Sometimes it's a touch softer and sweeter, but most of the time, claiming to be in someone else's boat is a way of assuring them that they're not the only one in a situation, and sometimes, that they can't or shouldn't complain because other people are sharing the experience.

If I'm being honest, I don't feel like there's someone else in my boat. I feel like I am the only person in the world in my boat, floating alone on a very dark ocean with meager food supplies. I'm a solo sailor, sprucing herself up enough to wave to a passerby. My boat is patched and bruised, and it floats, but whatever pink sparkly paint it had when it started out is losing its sequins. My boat sometimes feels like the loneliest place in the world. 

Don't get me wrong. My life is fantastic. I am beyond blessed to have family, food, a roof over my head, a car I can drive, and a future college career. I have an education, the ability to attend dance classes, and a full mouth of teeth I can smile with. Yet even in my shiny life, I feel the weight that severs my boat from the dock and leaves me floating. 

About a year ago, we adopted my youngest brother. Ever since, we have received endless diagnoses, and each one crushes my hopes just a little more. I feel like the only oldest child of six in the whole world. I feel like the only one with a disabled little brother. I feel like the only one whose sibling may never know their name. The only one who has to worry about what happens to her brother when her parents die. The only one who, at just seventeen, cries constantly because God doesn't work things out the way I want Him to.

It would be very easy to make the assumption that I am alone in my boat. Let's be real, my brother is in the 1-2% of the entire world's population who have CTD, and I don't know anyone else who has as many siblings as I do. Technically, my circumstance is unique, which makes it perfectly valid for me to assume that I'm alone in the boat. 

Though I am technically the only one in my specific situation, other girls in my life are also seniors in high school, and know the struggle of college decisions and future plans. There are girls in my life who have brothers, not with the same conditions as mine, but with severe autism, who may have similar symptoms. There are people in my life who have adopted siblings, or who are adopted themselves, and know the unique relationship that comes with that circumstance. 

It's worth noting, however, that I would never know these other people share some of my circumstances or relate to my burden. Just like me, these people are very good at sprucing up the boat for other people to see, while they patch up leaks alone. It is not until we start waving our arms in the air for help that people know we are struggling. It is not until I admit out loud that my life isn't perfect that someone else can share that weight. There are so many girls that I assumed had perfect lives. They looked so happy on the outside, and I never heard any plea for help, so I just assumed that they had it all together, and I didn't.

The truth is, no one has it all together. The people that I falsely assumed were perfect actually struggled with grief, drinking, and loneliness. I only learned the truth about them because I confessed the truth about myself. When I stopped smiling at the other sailors and instead started shouting for help, they gave me supplies to patch my leaks. Then they told me about their own issues, be it a lack of purpose or loss of hope. When we name our issues out loud to other people, it gives those people the opportunity to help us. When we stop pitying ourselves and start reaching out, we find other people who are not in the same boat, but who are in the same ocean. We find people who have some little snippet of similarity, and sometimes that is enough to pull us out of the pit. 

We are not all in the same boat. In fact, no one is in your exact boat. There are, however, people in the same make and model. People patching leaks with the same Duct Tape. People who want to offer you a hand. All you have to do is let them know where you are.