Through the Window of Maybe
I watch the rain trace lazy patterns down my window, each droplet carrying its own momentum, its own path. Some merge, growing stronger. Others fade into nothing before reaching the bottom. I used to think I kew which ones would make it, but I’ve been wrong more times than right—like the time that I tried to hike that trail around the local horse farm, convinced I could push through the fatigue eating at my every movement. ~Mandated Spoiler~ I couldn’t.
Sitting here, wrapped in the soft grey overcast light of a day that is seemingly going to keep demanding more than my body wishes to give, I count the things I haven’t and probably—once again—won't get done today. Those things pile up like autumn leaves—beautiful in ttheir own way, but speaking if decay all the same. The world spins madly on, they say. I watch. I wait. I wonder.
My reflection stares back at me, almost like a ghost caught between what is and what could actually be. Multiple Sclerosis isn’t just a condition. It’s... Well, it's… hell, I don’t even know how to explain it. Maybe, I suppose that I could say that it’s similar to a fun house mirror that bends the world, making simple things complex and complex things nearly impossible. And yet another metaphor—oh boy, I see this becoming a pattern already—my mind, with its beautiful chaos of neurodivergence, spins tales of everything I could be doing, should be doing, might have done if only...
If only.
I have to remind myself, though, this isn’t just my story…
It’s yours too, isn’t it? Yes, I'm talking to you. Uh-huh, you reading along. At any rate, stay with me.
These whispers of inadequacy, they’re universal in their uniqueness. I carry my buckets of considerations, elaborations, and limitations. You carry yours. Maybe they’re different, but they’re heavy all the same. Some are visible, worn on our bodies like medals we never asked to earn. Others hide in the electrical storms of our minds, in empty bank accounts, in the weight of generations of systematic exclusion.
Yet.
Yet.
Have you ever watched a pebble drop into still water? The ripples seem so small at first, almost apologetic in their gentleness. But they travel farther than we can see, reaching out towards shores we’ll maybe never know except from a distance.
That’s us—you and me and everyone else trying their best with whatever energy they can muster on any given day. Every small act of kindness, every moment we choose to keep going despite the weight, every time we reach out with trembling hands to help another soul who’s struggling... these aren’t small things. They’re ripples.
Still with me? Just checking because I am going to need you to listen closely to me now because this part is important…
The very fact that you’re here, carrying your burdens and still thinking of how to help others? That’s not just enough—it’s extraordinary. Your impact isn’t measured by the world’s arbitrary metrics of success. It’s in the wake you leave behind. It's in the lives you touch when you think no one’s paying any attention. And it's especially in the courage it takes to keep facing and dealing with those buckets that always dump out and erect hurdles or barriers even when your body or brain or bank account screams that you can’t.
Sometimes, the most revolutionary act is simply refusing to apologize for taking up space, for needing rest, for being exactly who and what you are in this moment. Your existence, with all its beautiful complications and limitations, is a ripple effect in itself.
So maybe… perhaps...
Perhaps we need to redefine what “enough” means. Maybe it’s not about the size of the wave but about the consistency of its movement. Maybe it’s about understanding that even on days when all we can do is watch the rain trace patterns on windows, we’re still part of this vast, interconnected web of human experience.
And maybe, just maybe—that’s the most profound ripple of all.
Can you feel it? That shift in perspective, like a kaleidoscope suddenly twisting and turning to reveal a whole new pattern?
We’re all just pebbles in the pond, you and I. Some days, we make bigger splashes than others. But every single ripple matters. Every single one reaches somewhere, touches something, maybe even changes someone.
And that, my friend, is more than enough.
Sheesh this hit me in the way only truth can - deep, quiet, and undeniable. The weight of existence, the exhaustion of carrying what we never asked to hold, the ripples we don’t always see but still create... I feel all of it. Thank you for putting words to something so many of us feel but rarely say out loud 😊
Thank you for this. I really needed to hear it.
I’ve felt so frantic lately…to do SOMETHING, but every something I do feels too small. and even though I know better, I have to admit, I’ve been running myself ragged chasing that lure of success, even though I know it’s just a stuffed animal and will do nothing to satiate my hunger.
Am I just afraid to slow down because a moving target is harder to hit? or because I’m afraid all my anxieties will catch me and swallow me whole? I don’t know.
But in reading this, I did slow down. And I needed that. I can feel it in my body, how much I needed it.
Beautifully written as always. Thank you.