The Hidden Weight We Carry
From the Emotional Reclamation Project
NOTE: I wrote this a while ago, but thought it was time to share.
On borrowed anxiety, old survival strategies, and remembering what’s truly yours
Last week marked one year since my divorce was finalized. Even though my daughters and I had been living without my ex for four years, the official anniversary hit harder than I expected.
Grief has a funny way of curling back around when you're not looking.
That same week, I found myself in the middle of multiple high-stakes client projects—each at some tipping point. People were stressed. Emotions ran hot. I started to notice a familiar old pattern in myself: scanning for what could go wrong, hyper-attuning to others' emotional states, stepping in with solutions before I even fully processed what I needed.
It felt like old software running on new hardware.
Stress as a Survival Skill
In the world I grew up in, stress was more than a symptom—it was a strategy. It kept me vigilant. It helped me read the room before the first word was spoken. And it trained me to anticipate danger so well that I could shape-shift before harm ever arrived.
That part of me—the "early warning system"—was incredibly effective. It probably kept me safe. It might’ve even made me successful.
But that same system now has me carrying things I don’t own. Anxiety that isn’t mine. Responsibility that isn’t mine. Emotional tension that might not even be real—just forecasted in my internal weather model, trained on decades of storms.
Neurodivergence or Pattern Recognition?
I’ve come to wonder if my autism isn't a barrier here—it’s a gifted antenna. I can feel when something’s misaligned before it’s obvious. But that awareness also comes with a risk: if I can’t get others to see what I see, I doubt myself. I spiral.
Did I not communicate clearly? Did I miss something that everyone else intuitively understands?
That dissonance feeds the stress loop. I start over-explaining. Over-owning. Over-functioning.
Until I’m showing up like I’m the CEO of a business I don’t actually own.
The Role Inflation Trap
Let’s pause here.
This isn’t about blame. This is about mental accounting.
Using the THX (Transformational Human Experience) utility framework, what’s happening is a multi-category distortion:
In terms of Prospect Theory, this means the losses (real or perceived) loom large. The “gain” of doing good work isn’t enough to offset the invisible cost of emotional overreach.
What If This Isn’t Yours to Carry?
You’re not wrong for caring. You’re not weak for feeling. But you’re also not obligated to hold what isn’t yours.
That old self that coped by controlling? They helped you survive. But maybe now, they need a rest. Maybe now, you need a different kind of strength.
One that trusts your clarity. One that doesn’t need to be the last line of defense. One that knows your value doesn’t come from carrying it all.
A Micro-Moment of Release
If any of this resonates, try this:
Take one deep breath. Now whisper to yourself:
“Not mine.” “Not now.” “Not anymore.”
It’s okay to care. But caring doesn’t mean collapsing under the weight of what you cannot change.
Next Up: When Caring Becomes a Cage
In the next post, we’ll explore the fine line between empathy and enmeshment—and what it means to hold your ground without losing your heart.