Grateful I Stayed: An SEO's Perspective 💛

You wouldn't know it from this picture.

Nine years ago, I entered one of the darkest periods of my life.

It wasn't one moment. It ebbed and flowed through 2017, 2018 and 2019. There were better days mixed in with really painful ones.

But at my lowest, there were times I would pray for something to take me out of this world.

I don't say that lightly.

And I don't say it for shock.

I say it because today, I am so, so, SO grateful I stayed.

Sometimes the person carrying something impossibly heavy looks exactly like this.

She goes to work. She laughs. She takes pictures. She shows up. She smiles.

And you would never know.

That's why we have to get better at talking about the things we can't see.

September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month and Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, and both have me thinking about just how much human beings are expected to carry while somehow continuing to function like everything is normal.

Grief is heavy.

Loss is heavy.

Watching someone you love suffer... is heavy.

Surviving when someone else didn't... is heavy.

Why them? Why me?

Why not me?

Why did I get another tomorrow when someone else didn't?

There are parents grieving children who should still be here.

There are people fighting like hell for another tomorrow.

There are people quietly wondering if they even want one....

There are survivors carrying guilt for surviving.

And there are people sitting next to us every single day carrying something we know absolutely nothing about.

The truth is, most of us were never taught what to do with any of this.

We weren't taught how to grieve.

How to watch someone we love suffer.

How to survive something someone else didn't.

How to carry questions that don't have answers.

We certainly weren't taught how to talk about it.

I'm still learning.

I'm still becoming me.

And I'm okay with that.

I'm imperfect. I have hard days. I question things. I screw things up. I start over.

I'm learning that none of that means I'm doing life wrong.

I can carry grief and gratitude in the same heart.

And I cannot even begin to explain just how grateful I truly am.

Back then.... I couldn't see the life I have today.

I couldn't see that I would get married at 37. I hadn't met Anthony yet. I couldn't see the people I hadn't met, the places I hadn't been, the ordinary Tuesday mornings I hadn't lived or all the love I still had left to give inside of me.... I would have missed it all.

I am so, so, SO glad I stayed.

Not because someone came along and saved me.

I stayed. And life kept happening. Some of it was beautiful. Some of it was awful. And so much of it was wonderfully, completely ordinary.

There were entire pieces of my life waiting for me that I simply could not see from where I was standing.

And that's what I think about when I wonder how many people we love are standing somewhere dark right now.

We have to talk about the hard things.

Not just "How are you?"

Really, how are you?

Are you okay?

Do you feel safe?

Do you want to talk about it?

And then we have to be willing to hear the answer without immediately trying to fix it, minimize it, compare it to our own pain or make it more comfortable for ourselves.

Sometimes loving someone means sitting beside them in something we cannot fix.

Sometimes it means checking again when "I'm fine" doesn't feel fine.

Sometimes it means saying the uncomfortable thing first so they know they're allowed to say it too.

Because we don't know what someone had to survive to still be standing in front of us.

Sometimes she looks like this.

She smiles. She laughs. She goes to work. She loves people. She takes the picture....

And you would never know.

So please, let's get better at talking about the things we can't see.

Let's talk about grief...

Survivor's guilt...

Mental health...

The heaviness of watching someone we love hurt...

The questions without answers...

The feelings that aren't "pretty" enough for an awareness monthly graphic.

We don't always need to know the right thing to say.

We need to make it safe enough for someone to tell us the truth.

My door is open. Always.

You don't have to make it pretty for me.

You don't have to explain it perfectly.

You don't have to apologize for it being heavy.

Come as you are.

Nine years later, I'm not sharing this because I conquered something and never struggled again.

Life ebbs and flows.

So do we.

I'm sharing it because I'm still here.

Still imperfect...

Still learning...

Still loving...

Still becoming me...

And I'm finally okay with that. 

I couldn't see this life from where I was standing then.

And if you're somewhere right now where you can't see your future, I cannot promise you what is waiting on the other side of what you're carrying.

But I can tell you this:

Not being able to see your future does not mean there isn't one.

I'm really grateful I stayed long enough to meet mine.

And I'm still meeting her.

Please stay long enough to meet the versions of you that you haven't even met yet. 💛

And please, talk to someone.

Love,

Joanna Rose Pompano

September 9th, 2026

💛🎗️Resources for you:

If you need more than my open door right now, please use one of these. You do not have to wait until things feel like an emergency to ask for help... ever!

💛 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988, or chat at 988lifeline.org. It’s free, confidential and available 24/7. You can reach out for yourself OR because you’re worried about someone you love.

💛 Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a crisis counselor by text.

💛 NAMI Help Line: Call 1-800-950-NAMI (6264) or text NAMI to 62640, Monday–Friday, 10am–10pm ET, for free mental health information, support and help finding resources.

💛 211: Call 211 or visit 211.org to find local community resources, including mental health services and support available near you.

 

My door is open. Always. 💛 YOU are worthy, regardless. 

Thank you for spending a few minutes with us today. If this found you in a hard season, we hope it reminded you that the versions of yourself you haven't met yet are still worth staying for. We hope you breathe. We hope you reach out. We hope you feel loved. 💛