How do I build community when managing my child's chronic illness alone?

Rabia al-Adawiyya lived in a time and place where community was survival. And she knew something we've almost forgotten: you cannot do this alone, and asking for help is an act of courage, not weakness. It's also an act of love—because you're giving others the chance to show up, to matter, to be part of something that matters. Community doesn't mean you need a village immediately. It might start with one person—a friend, a support group, another parent who gets it. It might be online. It might be messy and imperfect. That's okay. Rabia's legacy isn't about perfect belonging; it's about authentic connection. Start small. Tell one person the truth about what you need. Not a sanitized version—the real version. You might be surprised at who steps forward. And yes, some people will disappoint you. That's the tender part of belonging. But the people who stay, who show up, who text at 2 AM—those become sacred in a quiet way. Consider: What's one need you've been trying to meet alone? Food, errands, someone to sit with your child so you can rest, just someone to listen? Name it. Then tell one person. See what happens.