The Weight I Put There

Some days feel like fog. Like something should be happening—but nothing is. I set reminders, review goals, check boxes meant to mean momentum. But still, I sit with this question: Am I making a difference?

I want to help. Not perform. I want a home that feels safe and soft. A mind that feels challenged and clear. A life that feels like mine.

And when I look around and wonder why it all feels so heavy, I hear myself whisper: Because I put the weight there. Because someone has to carry it.

But maybe, just maybe—I don’t have to carry it alone.

There’s power in acknowledging what I want. In letting “not enough” speak. In believing boredom might be the beginning of something blooming. Maybe that ache is a signal, not a failure. A hunger to grow. To give. To become.

And maybe I can start by noticing all I already hold—with grace.