Six years ago, I found myself at the lowest point of my life. Everything felt heavy — like the world was closing in and I was sinking deeper with every breath I tried to take. Nights were sleepless, the silence too loud, and my chest often tightened in the dark, as if it was forgetting how to breathe. I felt lost, caught up, and utterly alone.
Until one night, I did something I thought I’d never have the strength to do — I reached out.
I messaged my friend Mimi, and told her what was going on. Then Dena and Shahsi — I reached for them not to fix me, but simply to help me stay afloat. And they did. They didn’t ask for explanations. They didn’t need me to justify my pain. They just showed up — with warmth, with presence, with love. They welcomed me in like family, wrapped me in quiet comfort, and for that… I will always be grateful. They became my home when I didn’t know where home was.
As I read The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse now, I feel that same gentle nostalgia — that reminder of how kindness, empathy, and small acts of love can save us. The book, written by Charlie Mackesy, is a beautiful fable about four unlikely friends — a boy, a mole, a fox, and a horse — each carrying their own fears and wounds. Through their conversations, they explore what it means to be brave, to love, to forgive, and to simply keep going.
One of the lines that touched me deeply says:
“Asking for help isn’t giving up,” said the horse. “It’s refusing to give up.”
And that’s exactly what I did six years ago.
I didn’t give up — I reached out.
And that, I’ve come to realize, was the bravest thing I’ve ever done.
Love,
Chits
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