There are moments in life that feel small on the outside, but something shifts so deeply inside that you know—you won’t go back to who you were before.
This was one of those moments.
My mom recently reached out about visiting. It’s been a tough year, and my body has felt spent. Although I haven’t seen my mom in a while, yet wanted to, the idea of hosting a long visit brought a quiet pressure into my body.
Not loud, not obvious—but a weight. A sense that I needed to prepare, manage, hold, anticipate… for both of us.
I knew I didn’t have it in me.
The thought of disappointing her hurt me.
But my body was also speaking, and I needed to listen.
I had to set a boundary to protect myself from exhaustion.
Having company is wonderful, but when your tank has been taxed and there is nothing to give, the timing is not right.
I couldn’t push my feelings down any longer to accommodate pleasing someone else.
We decided on a shorter visit. She was disappointed, but my body exhaled.
“I don’t have to hold this right now.”
Relief.
Not just because the plan was more manageable—but because, for a moment, my body realized it was okay to put my needs first and that I was going to start listening.
The Pattern I Didn’t Know I Was Living
For most of my life, I’ve been the “good” one.
The good daughter.
The good friend.
The good wife.
The good mom.
And what “good” meant—without me realizing it—was this:
• Be available
• Be steady
• Be encouraging
• Carry what others can’t
Somewhere along the way, my value became tied to how well I could hold everything together—for everyone.
And I got really good at it.
But what I didn’t see was the cost:
I was staying connected to everyone else…
by slowly disconnecting from myself.
The Difference Between Holding and Carrying
This was the shift that changed everything for me.
There is a difference between holding space and carrying someone’s container.
Holding space says:
“I’m here with you.”
• I stay present
• I stay connected
• I care deeply
• But I remain anchored in myself
Carrying says:
“I need to fix this, manage this, or make this better.”
• I take responsibility for their emotions
• I override my own needs
• I absorb what isn’t mine
• I leave myself in the process
And the truth is—I’ve been carrying far more than I ever realized.
My Body Was Speaking
What I’m learning now is that my body has been communicating with me all along.
Through:
• heaviness
• tightness
• exhaustion
• subtle resistance
• that quiet feeling of “I don’t want to”
Those weren’t inconveniences. They were signals.
Signals that said:
“This is too much.”
“This isn’t yours to carry.”
“You’re leaving yourself again.”
But I had learned to override them because being “good” meant pushing through.
Learning To Listen
Now I’m learning something new:
To pause.
To notice.
To ask:
“What happens in my body when I say yes?”
“What happens in my body when I say no?”
And instead of analyzing…I’m learning to trust what I feel.
Because a true yes feels:
• open
• grounded
• calm
And an overextended yes feels:
• tight
• pressured
• heavy
My body knows the difference—even when my mind doesn’t.
Redefining What It Means to Be “Good”
I’m realizing that being “good” doesn’t mean:
• meeting everyone’s needs
• staying endlessly available
• absorbing every emotion in the room
It means something much truer:
Staying honest.
Staying present.
Staying within my capacity.
That kind of goodness doesn’t create burnout.
It creates real connection.
The Grief I Didn’t Expect
There’s also been sadness.
Because part of this journey is grieving the version of me who believed she had to:
• earn love
• maintain peace
• hold everything together
That version of me worked so hard.
And I don’t reject her.
I honor her.
But I don’t have to be her anymore.
What I’m Learning Now
I can love deeply…
without losing myself.
I can be present…
without carrying what isn’t mine.
I can stay connected…
without abandoning my own needs.
And maybe most importantly:
I can let my body speak—
and actually listen.
A Quiet Practice I’m Holding Onto
Just once a day, I pause and ask:
“What do I need right now?”
Not what’s needed from me.
Not what others feel.
Just me.
And I honor it in one small way.
The Beginning of Something New
I’m not becoming less loving.
I’m becoming someone who finally includes herself in the love she gives.
And that changes everything.
In everything you do -eat, play, and love- may it always be seasoned with Joy!
Footnote: 1. Text generated with the aid of ChatGPT, March 19, 2026, OpenAI, https://chat.openai.com/chat.
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