The other day, I was thinking about what we call our support system.
It’s a phrase we use so easily. My family is my support system. My friends are my support system. But then I started wondering: for a support system to exist, there must first be a system it is supporting, right?
And, as often happens, one small thought turned into a full discussion in my head.
So, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought:I am the system.
My body, my thoughts, my emotions, my beliefs, my choices, and all the complicated little parts of me work together to keep this system functioning.
Then I have the things that support me.
The food I eat, the exercise I do, and the rest I allow my body are part of my physical support system.
My environment, the books I read, what I watch and listen to, and the people I turn to are part of my emotional and mental support system.
All of these things help me. But they are not responsible for keeping me functioning.
That responsibility is mine. The people supporting me are systems too.
They have their own emotions, challenges, responsibilities, limits, and lives to manage. They cannot always show up exactly when or how I want them to. And that does not necessarily mean they love me any less. Sometimes, it simply means they are taking care of their own system.
This is where I think holism comes in. It is the idea that life is bigger than each separate part. We are individual systems, but we are also connected. Our interactions create relationships, experiences, lessons, and sometimes entirely new versions of who we are.
Holism also includes my faith in God. It is the belief that beyond everything I can understand, organize, or control, there is a greater presence quietly holding all the pieces together.
I am responsible for taking care of myself, noticing when something within me needs attention, and asking for help when I need it. My support system is there to support me during those moments, not to become responsible for my entire well-being.
And support systems evolve too.
Some people walk with us for a lifetime. Some stay for a particular season. Some relationships change shape as we grow. And sometimes, someone may choose to step away, not because the connection was meaningless, but because they need to care for themselves too.
That can be difficult to accept. But perhaps it is also part of growing.
The healthiest relationships are not built on the expectation that someone else will complete us. They are built when two whole, accountable people choose to support each other without losing themselves in the process.
So, I see support for what it truly is: a gift, not an obligation.
I am the system, and caring for it is my responsibility. But I am not alone.
I have been blessed with people who have listened, encouraged, challenged, comforted, and loved me through different seasons of my life. They were never meant to carry me forever, but sometimes they carried me just long enough for me to remember how to stand. And perhaps that is what a support system truly is.
“I do not need you to complete me. But I will always be grateful that, in the moments I felt incomplete, you stayed close enough to remind me that I was still whole.”
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