There was a stretch of time when I was in a dark place. Not a moment or a bad day, but a stretch. A season where I was struggling quietly. Most people didn’t know. I was still going to work. Still keeping commitments. Still showing up the way I always had.
But underneath all of that, I was not okay.
I had a few people I leaned on. I call them my lifelines. They were there. They listened. They showed up for me in ways I’ll never forget. And I’m grateful for that. I don’t want to act like I was completely alone, because I wasn’t.
But even with their support, I still felt guilty. Like I was asking for too much. Like I was becoming a burden. I knew they were worried about me, and I hated being the reason for that kind of concern. So I held back. I kept showing up for other people, even when I had nothing left to give. Not because I was pretending to be strong, but because I didn’t know how to stop.
I carried a lot during that time. Some of it was mine, but some of it I picked up without realizing. I thought I was supposed to. I thought that’s what it meant to be dependable. And I never really asked myself what it was costing me.
I’ve been working on that. It’s not fixed. I still catch myself sliding into old patterns. But I notice it more now. I try not to let things build without checking in. I try not to carry everything on my own, even when it feels easier than explaining.
I don’t have a clean ending to this. Just a little more awareness than I had before. And I’m holding onto that.
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