This last month has been hard.
It’s hard to suddenly find yourself in the midst of a political debate, a media frenzy and an overwhelming amount of emails, messages and phone calls, all with the plight of 3000 refugees as your motivation, but also as the weight upon your shoulders. And that’s just the ones in Calais.
It’s hard to not have time for your friends and your family, hard when you even find it difficult to find the time for a shower, and your brain is just so full…so full of problems with no answers and issues with no outcomes.
It’s hard to try and figure out the logistics of a national movement of people wanting to give, to facilitate tons of donations, to store them accordingly and to distribute them fairly. Hard to deal with negativity and opposition to what you believe in so strongly. Hard to deal with ignorance and racism on a daily basis.
But none of these things are really hard. They’re all a piece of piss when I think about what is actually hard. Walking from Eritrea is hard. Watching your sisters and mother be sexually abused then killed in front of you is actually hard. Crossing the Mediterranean and fearing your life, crossing the channel, living in a refugee camp, they’re all actually hard.
But if I’ve learnt anything in this past month, it is the power of human spirit. The resilience and strength we all have within, and that despite hardship and pain, there is hope. Regardless of circumstance, people continue to smile.