Fear Not

I walked into Wawa today to get Eli a milkshake. We’re always trying to fatten him up, and an Oreo shake is his go-to.

As I was ordering on the kiosk, I noticed a woman crying. Not the kind of crying that draws attention. The quiet kind. Head down. Face flushed. A tear slipping down her cheek as she tried to hold it together.

My heart ached for her.

I wondered what could feel so heavy that she found herself crying in the middle of Wawa. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what words would be right.

Thankfully, one of the employees noticed too. She stepped in gently and offered the woman a warm, meaningful hug. The woman cried for another minute before wiping her face and collecting her order.

As I stood there, something felt strange. It was as if I was in my own little world. I wasn’t aware of anyone else around me. Maybe it was because my focus was locked in on her, but it felt almost like a quiet disassociation, like I had stepped outside of myself.

Was she just having a bad day like me?

Did she receive hard news?

Was it a memory of the way things “used to be” that crept in unexpectedly?

I could only imagine.

Then, as I slowly came back to myself, I wiped my own eye.

And that’s when I realized…the woman I was so curious about… was me.

In those few minutes, I had so much compassion for her. I wanted to tell her that tomorrow could be better. I wanted to tell her it was okay to cry. “Get it all out,” I would have said. I wanted her to feel seen and understood.

I had so much gentleness for her.

Until I realized I was being more loving toward a stranger than I ever am toward myself.

I find this happens often. I can extend grace so freely to others. I can sit with their pain. I can validate their tears. But when it comes to my own, I tighten up. I minimize. I push through. I expect strength.

Why?

Why is it easier to comfort someone else than to offer myself the same kindness?

Maybe somewhere along the way, I decided I needed to be the strong one. The steady one. The one who keeps going. Maybe I learned that my tears should wait, that my feelings should be managed quietly and efficiently.

But standing there in Wawa, I realized something important.

I already know how to be compassionate.

I just need to turn it inward.

The woman in Wawa deserved that hug.

She deserved softness.

She deserved someone to tell her it’s okay to cry.

And so did I.

Thank you Karen ❤️

~ by Rebecca on February 17, 2026.

Posted in Back to life and living, Diagnosed, living, My journey
Tags: acceptance, anxiety, aregiver, Becky reflects, blog, caregiver, caregiver stories, day by day, depression, Eli and Ellas Prayer Warriors, growth, Love, metachromatic leukodystrophy, one day at a time, parenting special needs, Questions, rare disease, real life, self compassion, special needs, strength