I Can’t Erase Your Pain, But Maybe My Love Can Help It Hurt A Little Less

Hannah Busing

I wish I could undo the pain you’re feeling in your heart right now. I wish I had the power to just wash it away, make it disappear, close my eyes and take a deep breath and have it no longer weigh on you.

If I had a superpower, it would be to heal you, to make you feel alright again, to hold you in my arms and have every little drop of sadness suddenly fade. If I could have one guaranteed, answered prayer, it would be for your sake. To allow you start new without this heaviness, this burden, this exhaustion.

But I am no superhero. I am no magical being, filled with powers beyond my human strength. I am no healer, no medicine woman, and even if I talk to God, I cannot demand Him to behave a certain way. He works according to His will and I am not foolish enough to think I am in charge.

I don’t have much to offer you—no spells or special powers, no promise of healing or the ability to solve the struggles spinning in your brain. But what I do have is my heart.

What I do have is my love. And I know my love can’t save you, but maybe I can help you hurt just a little less.

Maybe if I hug you, I can take your mind off of the places that ache. Maybe if I hold you, I’ll soften the edges, help you feel a little less guarded and a little more open. Maybe if I make you laugh, it’ll remind you of all you have, of who you are, of the good that’s around you, even if your world is falling apart.

Maybe if I just give you all of me, you’ll realize that you have people in your corner, fighting for you, standing beside you. People that will never let you be alone.

I can’t erase your pain. I can’t promise you blue skies and sunshine. I can’t give you answers, or make sense of what you’ve lost. But what I can give you is care. What I can give you is support. What I can give you is attention, answered phone calls, late nights up talking about who we are and what this all means, my hands in yours.

I can’t go back and change what has happened to you. I can’t rewrite your story so that your heart stops aching. I can’t help you solve all the problems in your mind, but I can help you see what lies ahead. I can change your focus, so that you aren’t constantly reminded of what could have been, and instead see all that can be.

I can be there for you when push comes to shove, when you’ve lost all hope, when you feel empty and broken and don’t think you can take another step.

In those moments, I will stand with you. I will walk with you. I will rise with you. I will fall with you. I will be the person who shows you that you aren’t going to drown, but you will falter and then learn how to swim. You will learn from mistakes, let pain give you strength, and continue forward, arm-in-arm with me.

I’m no miracle woman. I’m no healer, no savior, no God. I can’t promise to be all that you need, or to come into your life and ease the pain completely. But I promise you won’t have to face your demons alone. I can promise I will lift you up and make you laugh, show you the happiness that’s all around you, the light within yourself.

I will show you all the reasons to live, to celebrate, to smile.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll start to see you’re going to be okay. And that you are loved, unconditionally. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Marisa Donnelly is a poet and author of the book, Somewhere on a Highway, available here.

Marisa is a writer, poet, & editor. She is the author of Somewhere On A Highway, a poetry collection on self-discovery, growth, love, loss and the challenges of becoming.

Keep up with Marisa on Instagram, Twitter, Amazon and marisadonnelly.com

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