Sometimes I honestly don’t know what I need.
People say, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” and I know they mean it. But when I’m barely able to think clearly, I can’t figure out what would help, put it into words, and then reach out and ask for it.
That’s a lot to expect from someone who is already struggling to get through the day.
Do I want someone to come over? Do I want to be left alone? Do I need to talk? Do I want a distraction? Am I hungry? When was the last time I ate?
I don’t know.
And by the time I figure something out, the moment has usually passed—or I’ve convinced myself that I shouldn’t bother anyone.
Sometimes “let me know what you need” feels like one more decision I have to make. One more thing I’m responsible for. And if I don’t reach out, everyone assumes I’m okay or that I want to be left alone.
But that may not be true at all.
Maybe instead of asking me to figure it all out, just do something.
Send the text. Bring the food. Check in again, even if I didn’t answer the last time. Offer to sit with me without expecting me to talk. Give me something simple I can say yes or no to.
And please don’t take it personally if I don’t know what I want or if what I need changes from one hour to the next.
I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m not pushing you away.
I truly don’t know what I need.
I just know I don’t want to have to do this by myself.
If these words connected with you, you’ll find many more like them in What Remains. It’s a collection of the writings I’ve shared over the years, bringing together reflections on grief, love, loss, and the connections that continue long after someone is gone.
I hope it brings you comfort, understanding, and the reminder that you’re not alone.
If you’d like to read more, you can find the book here
Available now on Amazon