I Don’t Know How to Help You


I don’t know how to help you.

I don’t know how to make you stop worrying. I don’t know how to make school easier for you. I don’t know how your sister doesn’t need to study, but all studying in the world doesn’t matter for you.

I don’t know how to make it better when you sit and cry because you tried your hardest, and it just wasn’t good enough.

All I can do is keep reminding you that you are good enough.

That what matters is you are trying, that I can see you are trying, every day, without fail. All I can do is push you out the door to play with your friends when you’ve been inside studying for over an hour.

I can remind you that I love you, no matter what.

“What if I fail the third grade?” You ask me, and I don’t know what to tell you to make you stop worrying about it.

So I tell that you, “So what if you have to repeat the third grade? Some kids just need extra help. Richard Branson didn’t do well in school, and now he’s a millionaire.”

Knowing that doesn’t make it easier, but it does make it less scary.

It reminds you that you aren’t alone in your struggles, even when at times it feels like you might be.

I don’t know how to help you; all I can do is love you.

All I can do is remind you that I’m here to help and to hug when it starts to be a bit too much.


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