You Were Never Meant to Carry It Alone

The afternoon stretches out, a long middle where the asking never seems to stop. You feel the weight of another person's need pressing against your ribs, and beneath the love, a quiet resentment begins to rise.

It feels like a betrayal to be tired of caring, like your heart is shrinking when it should be expanding. But listen — the light does not demand that you be an endless well.

There is a story of a man who carried a paralyzed friend through a roof just to reach the one who could heal him. He did not carry him alone.

He had three others to share the weight, to dig through the clay together. You were never meant to be the only hands holding someone up.

The guilt you feel is a lie that says you must do it all, but the truth is simpler: you are allowed to need help too. The light is not impressed by your exhaustion; it is present in the moment you admit you cannot dig through the roof by yourself.

Your resentment is not a sin; it is a signal that you have forgotten you are part of a team. Put the mat down for a moment.

The light is strong enough to hold both of you while you catch your breath.