Some days, everything feels just so heavy. The rain pounding down on freshly fallen snow on a dreary grey day. Heavy.

Holding space for a slightly manipulative 8 year old who feels a bit unwell and wants to be blanketed with every ounce of your love and doting when all you are so desperate for is some space to catch your breath – heavy.

Doing the right thing and speaking your truth when you know it will fall on poisoned ears, heavy.

Wanting to control everything when you can barely control your own thoughts… the weight of everything that could possibly go wrong piling up on your already burdened chest, making every breath unbearably heavy.

And yet I carry the weight. It’s as much a part of me as the extra weight in my hips and my uncontoured face. A sign to some that I’ve let go. If only they knew, though, how badly I wish I could. Let go. Of everything that is so heavy.

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