Advocating is life on a treadmill

Tonight I feel heavy.
My head is throbbing.
Neck tight.
Eyes burning.
Exhausted.

Some days it takes all of me, to advocate.
To protect my son.
Educate others.
Keep him safe.

Some days it's exhausting.

I wonder what it's like for other families.
Not to worry or analyze.
Do they even notice this blessing?
They don't bat an eye.
I feel jealous.

Right now, it's a struggle.
It's damn hard.
It zaps my energy in minutes.
Leaves me hanging like a damp blanket on a clothesline.

Advocating is life on a treadmill.
Sometimes fast and sometimes slow.
It feels like I am going nowhere.
But I can't stop.

This little person depends on me.
His literal life depends on my resolve.
My purposeful actions.
My coaxing and educating.
My choice of words. 

Prove me wrong.

I can't stop.
Won't stop.

I support the hard things;
His daily grind to survive.
I am the body guard;
His personal safety vest.
I aim to make it bearable;
For him to live with fear.

My job is to rest,
But not quit.
Crack,
But not shatter.
Bend,
But not break.
Cry,
But not drown.

Tonight I'll silently tantrum.
Then rest.

Because I've learned that the key to advocating is rising,
over and over and over again.

With hope in my heart, 
a smile on my face, 
and the invisible shield of hugs that protect him when we are apart.