life

When Everything Feels Heavy

I’m struggling right now. My autoimmune condition flared up again, and even the simplest tasks feel impossible. I feel so alone, I don’t know anyone else who understands what this kind of exhaustion feels like. I’m trying to keep moving forward, but everything looks darker lately. It’s hard to find light when you’re running on empty and there’s no one to lean on.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I keep pushing myself at work. I’ve always been someone who strives, a top performer, the person who goes above and beyond, the one who’s constantly trying to elevate, improve, grow. I put so much pressure on myself to excel, to be the dependable one, to carry more than my share. And when my body fails me, or when life feels heavy, that pressure doesn’t ease up. If anything, it tightens. It makes the gap between what I expect of myself and what I’m able to give feel even wider. That gap hurts.

Work has been another uphill battle. My manager seems to lack empathy, even basic human understanding. I’m fighting for my health, and he compares my pneumonia and narrow airways to mild asthma. I’ve been in the same role for ten years, with no growth in sight. I spoke with our country lead for over an hour yesterday, and I don’t think any of it landed. Every time I try to make progress, it feels like I have to fight ten times harder than anyone else. It’s disheartening. I feel so low, and I don’t know how to climb out of this sadness.

Right now, I feel defeated and helpless, disappointed in myself for not being stronger. I just wish I had someone in my corner. But from every angle, it feels like I’m dragging myself forward alone, searching for a safety net that isn’t there.

And yet… I know this feeling will pass. Everything does. Pain, exhaustion, loneliness, they come in waves. Some crash harder than others, but none stay forever. I’ve survived every wave so far, even the ones that felt endless. Maybe that’s the quiet proof that I’ll survive this one too. Maybe the light isn’t gone, it’s just waiting for me to look up again.


life

January 9th

Some people claim that time heals all wounds, but I find this statement completely false. First of all, who are these people and what authority do they have to make such a sweeping claim? Second of all, it’s not time that heals wounds, but rather, actively working on healing yourself.

Grade 7, January 9th has forever been etched in my mind. It changed me as a person. Toronto had a massive snowstorm, and my friend, who I have cherished memories of, decided to cut the phone cords in his home and end his life. His funeral was the first one I ever attended, and until recently, I would wonder if there was anything more I could have done to help him. But the truth is, to embrace life also means to accept death. Even though he was very young, he made a choice. A choice that affected the lives of those who loved him forever.

Soon after his death, there were rumors that he was gay and he was harassed for it. I don’t know if there was any truth to the rumors, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. He was a kind person, and the world lost some of its magic. There was a hill that we used to play on often, and I still pass that hill and smile. He made my childhood a little brighter, and I’m grateful for that.

As I sit here on January 9th, more than 27 years later, Toronto is having another snowstorm, and I’m reminded of that day in grade 9. Hearing the news of his parents running to a neighbor to ask them to call an ambulance. The memories come back, and I’m finally making the decision to work through my unresolved feelings. His death changed me as a person. I’m known to be a very outspoken person, but if you pay attention to what I say, I will never deliberately say something to hurt anyone. My friend’s death taught me that the saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ is nothing but nonsense. Words matter. They have weight. They can push someone over the edge.

His death impacted me so much that for the last 3 years, I have been doing my job and a colleague’s job to ‘cover for them’. Even though it has been at my own expense. My colleague lost both of her parents at the same time and spiraled down. I felt that it was my duty to ‘help her’ while she got back to being herself. But she hasn’t been herself since. At what point do I recognize that her experience has changed her as a person forever? And at what point do I say, ‘it’s not my duty to heal her and take a step back for my own mental health’. Last year, I made the decision to talk to her manager and my own manager, because it was becoming too much for me. It wasn’t only the work that was dragging me down, it was her hostility and her rudeness. Sometimes she sounded drunk on the phone, other times she sounded high. I would repeatedly say ‘go get help!’, and ‘focus on your job! this is your livelihood, you have kids!’ But it felt like everything I said fell on deaf ears.

My own trauma of my friend’s passing makes it hard for me to give up on my colleague. I can’t walk away. I know who she was before her life was turned upside down. And while I know it’s not my ‘duty’, I can’t leave her behind. My peers will say ‘it’s not your job to fix this’, and I know it’s not. But I also understand her worth, even if she can’t see it right now. I’m starting to understand that it’s her job to fight for the life that she wants. She is an adult, and I can’t make her get help that she doesn’t want. Her blessing through this experience is to understand that yesterday is gone, hold on to the memories and lessons, and find a way forward in her own power.

And my lesson is to understand that it’s my responsibility to focus on the happy and wonderful things happening in my life. To be easier on myself and understand that how other people live their lives is not my responsibility. I understand that my friend chose to end his life, I did not choose that for him, nor can I alter the past. But just because I couldn’t save him in the past, doesn’t mean it’s my responsibility to save someone in my present. They have to save themselves. They have to fight for themselves. I have been urging her to get professional help for 3 years. I have done my part; the actions are now up to her. She has to make the decision to fight for herself, and I have to find peace with that. This is something that I’m struggling with, but I’m trying.

— xoxo Sandy