Life is confusing. Things are going well for me right now. One of my closest friends, though, is going through the worst string of difficulties us first-world types are likely to have to suffer through, while trying to manage an already-stressful career change and grad school and... I don't know how she does it. There is so much that I want to do for her (everything) and so little that I actually can. I want to fix everything for her. I can't. I can't do anything. I can keep saying, call me, ask me, I'll help you no question. She knows that.
Sometimes I almost feel guilty talking about things in my own life with her. I have complaints, but they are few and generally, even the a/c being out for a week and the high cost of the replacement unit, pale in comparison to any one of the issues she's dealing with. I'm mostly satisfied. But I'm a naturally melancholy person; I want to just take her pain for her and hold onto it and let her get on with life. I can't do that. She wouldn't let me if I could. She would be horrified at the thought that I might ever feel guilty because I'm not dealing with the stress she is.
I'm supposed to be an adult. I am an adult. I'm plenty old enough to have already figured out how to handle situations like this, except, I'm starting to think we never really figure out exactly how to handle anything. We just fake it. We just try to make something up on the fly and hope it works. We can't make up generic patterns for every situation we're likely to find ourselves in; every situation is different. All we can do is try to look at the past and apply the lessons to the present. And even that's not as easy to do as it is to write.
Life is confusing. Bad stretches come and go; good times, too. I guess we just keep making it up as we go along.