What We Carry

 

The older I get, the less interested I am in being right about people. I’d rather be careful with them.

It’s easy to look at someone’s actions and decide who they are. It’s harder to remember that we’re only seeing a chapter, not the whole story. We don’t know what kind of love they grew up with, what fears they carry, or what they’re still trying to protect. Sometimes people become controlling because they were never given certainty. Sometimes they need to be seen because they’ve spent a lifetime feeling invisible. Sometimes they hurt others without even realizing it.

Understanding someone’s story doesn’t excuse the pain they cause. Some boundaries are still necessary. Some distance is still healthy. But I’ve learned that I don’t have to choose between protecting my peace and keeping my compassion.

We rarely know what shaped someone’s heart. But we always get to decide what shapes ours.

I hope life never hardens me into believing that the only way to survive is to become less kind. If anything, I hope it teaches me to be gentler without becoming naive, to have boundaries without losing empathy, and to remember that the way I treat people says far more about me than the way they treat me.

What Did You Lose Between 2020 and 2025?

 

Today, I stumbled upon an Instagram post that simply asked, “What did you lose between 2020 and 2025?”

At first, I thought the answer would be easy. Time, maybe. A few opportunities.. But the longer I sat with the question, the more I realized I hadn’t really lost things. I had slowly let go of the life I thought I would have by now.

Somewhere between those years, I lost the certainty that life would unfold the way I imagined it would. I watched my dad become someone I barely recognized after his stroke. I watched my mom quietly rearrange her life around his, until caring for him became part of her everyday routine. I watched my brother stay home to help take care of our dad instead of leaving for college.

It wasn’t the life I had imagined for any of us..

I celebrated another wedding anniversary, realizing that some milestones arrive on time, while others don’t. And through it all, life kept asking me to keep going—to show up for work, to laugh with friends, to make plans, even when some parts of my heart were still waiting.

Looking back now, I don’t think those years only took things away. They also gave me a gentler way of looking at life. They taught me that not every unanswered prayer is a forgotten one, and not every delay is a sign that life has stopped moving. Hope looks different these days. It’s quieter than it used to be, but it’s still here. If you asked me again what I lost between 2020 and 2025, I’d probably say this: I lost the version of me who thought life had to happen on my timeline. I still miss her sometimes. But I think the person I’m becoming is learning to trust a different one.