Most people aren't so lucky. My poor daughter's depression seems like it's eating her alive sometimes. We haven't found a medication that works well for her. She's been in and out of counseling, depending on whether we're able to pay for it. It breaks my heart that she struggles so much at such a young age. It kept her from traditional schools, which limited her social connections. It keeps her from being able to work on any kind of regular schedule. But the worst part is that days, even weeks go by in which she can't find any motivation to keep on living.
How many people are in that kind of pain, but without a home and people who love them? She will never be homeless -- she knows I'll always be there for her. But what about the parents who can't understand their young adult children's pain? The ones who say the kids had better shape up and show some responsibility or they'll be out on the street? What about the kids whose families don't understand their sexual orientation or passion for modern art or any integral part of their character because it's different? The ones who struggle just to keep breathing, only to have their families say they aren't trying hard enough?
We've had several kids stay with us for weeks or months while they try to get on their feet, find support resources, and especially work through their pain and depression. It doesn't go away, but sometimes it can be managed. What about the ones we can't take in? The ones who don't know how to find help, or even shelter? How many young people do we allow to die on the streets in America every year?
It makes my heart ache. I'm glad it does. We don't change unless it hurts too much to stay the same. I hope you hurt with me.