the act of care.

there is a subtle wisdom in learning how to care without carrying. a soft kind of strength in realizing that not everything heavy is ours to hold. this has been heavy on my heart and mind lately and resurfaces often in conversation and interactions. maybe because i felt to always be someone who 'cared' too much. who didn't know when to let go for fear of letting people down. cycles repeating until i saw the pattern for what it was and sat myself down to process, reflect, and grow into a new era of 'caring.

i was exhausted from holding what felt like the entire world on my shoulders, but, truth is, no one ever even asked me to. but, of course, they let me carry—every worry, every disappointment, every unspoken need in the name of love, or friendship, or grace. I confused presence with burden thinking that to care is to fix, to rescue, to absorb. the deeper i sank under the weight of others expectations and 'caring' the more I began to realize that real love has boundaries in the midst of compassion.

carrying happens for me when empathy and compassion turns heavy. when i see a friend or loved one surffering, or making choices that wound, my first instinct is to 'help' to 'fix', to lighten their burden, to hold. but in carrying those things, we drain ourselves, but bigger than ourselves, we rob that individual of a learning experience, and an opportunity for growth and self reflection. while intentions are good and noble, i recognized it was a quiet form of control. (ooof). basically saying, “I’ll hold this because I don’t trust God, life, (or you) to handle it.” and when i came to this bold realization, i began to change. because ain't no way i'm bigger than God or his plan. that sat me right down.

the act of caring is simply presence without possession. listening without trying to rewrite the story. showing up, offering what we can, and trusting what we cannot change. sometimes it’s sending the text to check in, holding space for a hard conversation.

The journey from carrying to caring is slow, it's layered, for me it looks like:

• Taking a deep breath before responding to someone else’s crisis.

• Reminding myself often, “This is theirs to hold, not mine.”

• Offering support with rather than instead of.

• practicing the ever-so-uncomfortable art of stepping back but staying connected.

am i alone with this one? has anyone else allowed their empathy and compassion to lead too far and found yourself carrying baggage that isn't yours? it's ok to step away. you know, maybe that’s what liberation really feels like, not always lightness, but clarity.

A clear knowing of what’s ours to hold, and what’s not.

Affirmation:

"I can care deeply without carrying. I release what is not mine to hold, and trust that love is enough."