Recent life events brought me back to something I've come to realize: sometimes our wounds can only be ours to carry. But not forever.

It became apparent to me a long time ago, as I entered an extremely challenging season of life, that I would need to carry the burden of my experience alone for a time. That I would need to hold the weight myself as I processed it and worked toward healing. Not because I wasn't supported by my loved ones, but because not every wound I carried in that role needed to become theirs as well.

By that time, I had already grown deeply familiar with loss, supporting those in my role through unimaginable harm and trauma.

Rather than carry that forward, I unconsciously created a kind of space of emotional containment to process it.

And while this created periods of distance with my loved ones, today I can return to that time with gratitude.

My loved ones offered me the space I needed and stood by me while I worked through those years. And in return, I did the work within that space to release the burdens that weighed me down.

Today, as I (like many out there) prepare for a new chapter and release my old role, I find a new kind of steadiness — one that comes not from distance or containment, but from having passed through it all intact. And a new kind of wholeness — knowing these burdens are behind me, and that whatever comes next, I don't have to carry it alone.

And I am grateful. 🤍