Day 238: The Weight I Carry

Day 238: The Weight I Carry

“Sometimes I wish I could set my heart down for a while and walk without it.”

— Unknown

Today, I’m not angry.

I’m not blaming the world.

I’m just tired—the kind of tired that comes from carrying a heart that feels everything at full volume.

It’s strange, learning to live again with no armor.

For over a decade, addiction muted the noise inside me.

I forgot what it was like to truly feel—raw, sharp, unfiltered emotion.

I forgot what it was like to care this much, about everything, about everyone.

Now, every day in sobriety, I feel it all.

Not just my own emotions, but sometimes the emotions around me too.

And some days—like today—it’s overwhelming.

The day itself was fine.

The world outside didn’t ask too much of me.

But inside, it was like standing barefoot in a rainstorm, no shelter, no filter—just the pure, wild truth of who I am.

I’m a man who feels too deeply.

Who thinks too long.

Who hopes too hard.

And even when I want to shut it off—to set my heart down for just a little while—I can’t.

It’s stitched into me.

It’s who I’ve always been.

Maybe I don’t fit perfectly into this world.

Maybe I was never meant to.

Maybe I was built to feel what others overlook—to ache a little more, to dream a little harder, to believe a little longer.

I don’t apologize for that anymore.

Not today.

Today, I honor the heart that refused to go quiet,

even when I begged for silence.

I honor the cracks, the weight, the ache—

because they mean I’m still alive.

And even if no one sees the battle—

I carry it, and I carry it forward.

One Step. One Punch. One Round. 🌹

—Your Fellow Traveler