I Let You Use My Back as a Ladder

"What I learned about loving people without climbing into every trench with them"

Girl, I realized something today.

For years, every time somebody I loved ended up in a trench, I climbed right down there with them.

Didn’t matter how they got there.

Didn’t matter if they dug the trench themselves.

Didn’t matter if I had already warned them that they were headed straight toward it.

If somebody I loved was down there struggling, I was coming.

And baby, I wasn’t just coming to check on you.

I was getting all the way in.

I’d sit in that trench with you. Encourage you. Pray with you. Figure out a plan. Help you financially if I could. Carry some of your stress. Lose sleep thinking about your problem. And eventually, I’d bend over and let you step right on my back so you could climb your way out.

And you know what happened next?

You got out.

And I was still in the trench. (Your trench).

Girl.

Do you know how many times we do that?

We become somebody else’s ladder and then look around wondering why we’re exhausted, depleted, overwhelmed, and struggling to climb out of situations that weren’t even ours to begin with.

And sometimes, you need somebody who loves you enough to catch you right before you start climbing down there and say:

Girl, that’s not your trench.

I know you love them.

I know you want to help.

I know part of you feels guilty standing at the top while somebody you care about is struggling below.

But girl, that’s not your trench.

Some trenches are the result of decisions people made. Some come from patterns they refuse to change. Some come from consequences they have to experience for themselves. And some are simply battles that belong to another person.

You don’t have to climb into every hard place just because somebody you love is in it.

You can care without carrying.

You can support without rescuing.

You can pray without fixing.

You can encourage without becoming responsible for the outcome.

And you can love somebody deeply while still saying, “I’m not getting down there with you.”

Because here’s what I had to learn: helping somebody does not always mean becoming their ladder.

Sometimes helping looks like standing at the top of the trench and throwing down a rope.

I’ll throw you the rope.

I’ll send down some water.

I’ll shine a light so you can see.

I’ll remind you that you’re capable of climbing.

I’ll pray for you while you’re figuring it out.

I may even sit at the edge for a minute and remind you that this season will not last forever.

But I will not climb down there, let you stand on my back, push you to safety, and then look around wondering how I’m supposed to get myself out.

Not anymore.

Because I’ve done that before.

I’ve spent so much energy getting other people through their difficult seasons that I had nothing left when my own difficult season came.

And that’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

We talk about being there for people.

We talk about loyalty.

We talk about holding people down.

We talk about being the person who never leaves when things get hard.

But nobody tells you what happens when being there for everybody else means abandoning yourself.

Nobody tells you how tired you become when you’re constantly carrying emotional weight that doesn’t belong to you.

Nobody tells you that eventually, resentment starts creeping in when you’re always the rescuer and rarely the rescued.

And nobody tells you that sometimes the most loving thing you can do is allow somebody to experience their own consequences, make their own decisions, and figure out how to climb.

That isn’t cruelty.

That isn’t selfishness.

That’s boundaries.

And boundaries don’t mean you stopped loving people.

Sometimes boundaries simply mean you finally started loving yourself too.

So the next time somebody you love ends up in a trench, don’t immediately start climbing down.

Look first.

Ask yourself:

• Is this mine?

• Am I actually supposed to carry this?

• Can I help without sacrificing myself?

• Can I offer support without taking responsibility for something that belongs to them?

And if the answer is yes, help.

Throw the rope.

Send the water.

Offer the encouragement.

Pray.

Be kind.

Be compassionate.

But if you find yourself preparing to climb down into something that was never assigned to you, I need you to hear me like I’m sitting right beside you on the couch:

Girl. That’s not your trench.

You don’t have to prove your love by suffering beside somebody.

You don’t have to destroy your peace trying to create theirs.

You don’t have to become somebody else’s ladder.

Sometimes love stands at the top of the trench and says:

“I believe you can climb.”

And then it lets them.

Because remember, "Girl, that's not your trench."

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