The Weight I Wear (even when nobody asks me to)

I don’t know when I started carrying so much.

Not in my hands, but in my chest.

Tight—like a thread pulled too far, a silent tension I stitched into myself.

No one said I had to be perfect.

No one handed me a checklist titled“Be Everything to Everyone.”

And yet—I wrote one anyway.

Maybe it’s the way I was raised to lead, to hold it together, to shine.

Maybe it’s the way I love so deeply that I pour myself into everything I do.

Maybe it’s just who I am.

But maybe it leaves me with less than what I need.

I want to be the best at what I do.The best version of me in every room.

Sharp and soft.

Kind and driven.

Creative, dependable, radiant, unshakable.

But some days, that leaves me feeling like a half-charged battery powering a thousand devices.

I want to do it all—not for applause, but because I care that much.

I want to be thoughtful in every detail, present in every moment, better than I was yesterday.

And sometimes, that makes it hard to start.

Because when you care deeply, you want to get it right.

You want to show up so fully that anything less feels like falling short.

But then, I freeze. Not from laziness—but from fear.

Fear of not doing it right. Not doing it fast enough. Not living up to the version of me everyone thinks I already am. Or was at one point, or maybe am still trying to be.

But beneath the pressure, there’s still a heart that means well.

Still a girl who’s trying.

Who wants to grow.

Who wants to make people proud—without losing herself along the way.

And maybe—just maybe—being enough isn’t about doing it all.

It’s about letting yourself breathe while you do your best.

And maybe my best isn't the same every single day, and maybe that's more ok than I think.