What I am Carrying Forward

I've been thinking about the things we carry. Not the things we can see. The invisible stuff.

Expectations. Responsibilities. Other people's opinions. Old habits. Old hurts. Dreams we haven't quite given up on. Versions of ourselves we outgrew years ago but somehow keep dragging along anyway.

Some of those things belong to us. Some never did. And some may have belonged to us once, but don't anymore.

Maybe that's part of making room for what matters. It isn't enough to decide what deserves our time and attention. Eventually, we also have to look at everything we're already carrying and ask why the hell it's still in our hands.

I've carried things because I loved them. I've carried things because I needed them. I've carried things because someone else needed me to. And I've carried things simply because I'd been holding them for so long that I forgot putting them down was an option.

I'm starting to think there is a difference between letting something go and leaving it behind.

Letting go can feel like loss. Leaving something behind can simply mean recognizing that it got you this far, but it isn't meant to go where you're going next.

So I've been asking myself another question lately.

What do I actually want to carry forward?

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