Held

When there's too much to carry

“That’s too much to carry.”

I’ve found myself saying this phrase over and over lately. To my friend who had a miscarriage, to the friend who cares for her kids with high needs day in and day out, to the friend who received an upending mental health diagnosis. 

Even when I look at my own to-do list, looming deadlines, and ache to live this life well. 

We carry too much. 

I wanted to write a longer post. With images of floating and surrender. To fully explore the nuances between trying to hold it all and letting ourselves be held. 

I’ve been thinking about you a lot, my reader. What will encourage you? How can I communicate how strongly I want to see you thrive? How I hope my words will be a balm, a prayer, a contribution. 

So instead of an essay, I leave you with a prayer of sorts. My hopes and wrestling mingled together. 

When you are overwhelmed, may you be buoyed by the love of your community. 

When you are overworked, may you be carried by the work you have already done. 

When you are overwrought with a grief that swirls like a vortex, may you be cradled in tenderness, like a mother comforting a child, patting rhythmically, rocking and swaying. 

Sshh, shh, you are safe. I am here. 

You are safe.

I am here. 

May you realize that you are that mother, fierce and tender, capable of holding and being held.  

In this moment, may you choose to be held.