Lighthouses

There are people in our lives who become lighthouses, steady, unmovable, shining for us even when we are convinced we should be able to walk the shoreline alone. They show up despite whatever storms they are weathering themselves. They see us clearly, past all the ways we try to appear strong, and they accept us without a second thought. For many of us, these are the people we reach for only when we have run out of ways to pretend we don’t need anyone. Something in us knows their light is safe.

Being sick has taught me a truth that pride kept hidden for most of my life. I wore my independence like it was proof of my worth, believing that needing help meant I wasn’t enough. But illness strips away illusions. It leaves you soft, tired, and honest in a way nothing else can. And in that honesty, I learned that asking for help isn’t weakness at all, it is human. It eases the weight we have carried far too long, and it gives others the chance to use the gifts they have been quietly holding, waiting for us to open the door.

What surprised me most is how many lighthouses I actually have. Some were people I barely knew. Some were friends I love but never let in close enough to see the real tenderness between us. And once I allowed myself to lean in, once I stopped guarding every edge, I found that the light around me was far brighter than anything I could have generated on my own.

Here is what I hope others take from my story: asking for help does not diminish us; it connects us. It softens the walls we have mistaken for protection and lets compassion move freely between us. And when we finally allow ourselves to see our lighthouses, to truly look at the people who stand steady for us, we discover something powerful… even on our hardest, most fractured days, we are not alone.

xo

Gabby