None of us got where we are solely by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We got here because somebody - a parent a teacher an Ivy League crony or a few nuns - bent down and helped us pick up our boots.
Some mornings it's just not worth chewing through the leather straps.
Happiness for you we walk on a knife edge. To the eyes you are a flickering light to the feet thin ice that cracks and so may no one touch you who loves you.