Just because I am carrying all this well doesn’t mean that it’s not fucking heavy.
The weight of it all is starting to consume me. It’s beginning to change how my body feels, pushing me into that unknown territory of “will I make it…”
People mean well when they tell me I’m strong and have done so much. I hear them, and I appreciate the support 100 times over. But some part of me struggles to process those words whenever I listen to them.
Because they don’t lighten the load, I’m not sure they meant to, as no one feels the load like I do. So, it’s an unfair expectation that I bring to their sentiments.
So, I bounce between these two states of emotions, which is exhausting.
I don’t know how to ask for help or what someone can do to help. I just wish I could share the load. I wish I didn’t feel so alone in this journey.
Perhaps that’s what I need most – not admiration for my strength, but recognition of my humanity.
The permission to stumble, to set down what I’m carrying, even if just for a moment. Because underneath all this weight, I’m still here, still breathing, still hoping someone might help shoulder what feels impossible to bear alone.
