I’m desperately trying to climb out of this awful pit with my son on my back. I’m doing it for him. It’d be so much easier to wander down here in the dark if it was just my pain. But we bear it together. And I see that light up there and I want it. Not for me, for him. He deserves it. He deserves the world and everything good in it. So I keep climbing. It is not easy. It is painful. It is humbling. I make it up a few feet only to fall back down, dangling a few inches from the bottom. There are times when I wonder if it is worth it. Then I look at him. I look at him. Why am I even questioning? And I climb on. It is so worth it. I would do anything for him. Anything. I search for answers. I find something that should help. I seek it out. I fight for it. I come up empty handed. I feel defeated. I cry. I sob. It shouldn’t be this hard. I wallow in the sadness for just a moment, just long enough to feel it fully. Then I write. I pour out the sadness. I release it out far away from me. It is not me. I am strong even in my weakness. I will make it higher. Higher. Higher. I will climb on. I will feel the pain. But those big beautiful eyes that stare deep into my soul tell me it is worth it. They thank me with every step I take. They do not have words but they grab ahold of me and beg me not to stop. So I climb on.