Humanity is a strange thing.

Our humanness, in all too fragile bodies, seen by all too many as disposable, abused, mistreated, disrespected, exhausted.

Our humanness, in hearts that have always been asked to keep us alive, in spite of all of our suffering, physical and spiritual and mental and emotional.

I am at the limits of my human capacity.

I have been at the limits all week.

I have been trying so hard to hold on the life preservers, to reach out for them.

They have been keeping me afloat.

My closest community, literally holding me up, because at any moment, I am at the verge of completely drowning, of complete collapse.

They are sending me texts and messages, delivering food and water, praying for my survival and that of my family.

They are bringing me moments of joy and laughter that remind me that even in the fragility of humanity, there is also beauty.

But every morning, I awake nauseous and dizzy. I wonder how I will make it through the day.

When I feel a bit of hope, another new event comes to steal my tenuous equilibrium.

And yet, in the strangeness of humanity, particularly my own human existence, I am both completely visible and vulnerable and yet, completely invisible in my suffering.

Everyone knows, but no one knows.

I am great at putting up a show. I have done it for so long.

I keep going to meetings and answering e-mails.

I keep writing papers, coordinating panels, and helping with homework.

These are all good things. Some of them are even important.

But I am so tired.

I am at the limits of my human capacity.

Thank you for those of you that see me. That have taken the time to pray, to send messages, to text, to send lunch, to send love, to acknowledge. Thank you for those that have started e-mails or messages with, “I know this is such a hard time for you right now,” giving me permission I cannot give myself. I will always be grateful.

And some people have not reached out but are still holding me in their hearts. I am grateful for you as well.

And some people do not know, cannot see, or if they do, continue to move on as if I am not breaking. I’m not mad. But I am so tired.

I am at the limits of my human capacity.

We all have different capacity. Mine is pretty deep. But we also all have limits. And we can only operate at the bounds of our limitations for so long.

I urge you, dear ones, to hold space for those around you, if and when you have the capacity to do so. There are so many battles, seen and unseen, that we continue to fight.