Week 47: Carrying Light in Heavy Times

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any heavier… it does.
Another tragedy. Another injustice. Another moment that shakes your sense of safety or faith in humanity. The weight keeps piling on, and somehow, you’re still expected to function—return that email, show up to the meeting, fold the laundry, smile at the neighbor.

If you're feeling like the world is too much right now—you’re not imagining it. You’re not broken. You’re awake.

But here's the complexity I’ve been hearing over and over in recent days—the guilt that creeps in when you feel even a flicker of joy.
You laughed today—does that make you selfish?
You had a moment of calm—does that mean you’ve forgotten those who are suffering?
You found something beautiful in your day—and it almost hurt to hold it.

Let me be clear: you are allowed to feel joy, even now.
You are allowed to laugh, to love, to rest.
You are allowed to carry light even in the darkest hours.

Joy isn’t betrayal—it’s resistance.
Hope isn’t naïve—it’s necessary.
Your joy doesn’t erase anyone else’s pain. But it reminds you—and others—that healing is possible, that beauty still exists, and that we are not defined only by what breaks us.

Coping in the Midst of Heaviness

You’ve likely seen some of the following strategies before—and that’s not a coincidence. These aren’t just one-time tips. They’re practices. They’re tools we return to again and again because difficult moments are not rare, and because we don’t just cope once. We build coping muscles over time.

The goal isn’t perfection—it’s practice.

And what’s more: you’re building your own toolbox.
What works for someone else might not work for you.
What helped yesterday may feel impossible today.
The intensity of your emotion matters—sometimes you need movement, other times stillness. Sometimes talking helps, other times you just need quiet.

This is your journey. Your process.

Here’s a reminder of some options—not as a prescription, but as a menu. Take what serves you. Leave the rest.

Coping Tools to Return To

1. Ground in what’s real right now.
Pause. Name what’s here. It might sound like:

“I feel heavy, and I also noticed a soft breeze on my walk.”
“The world hurts, and my child made me laugh today.”
Both can be true.

2. Tend to your nervous system like it’s sacred.
Because it is. Limit doomscrolling. Hydrate. Step outside. Stretch. Play music that soothes or uplifts. This isn’t self-indulgence—it’s maintenance.

3. Let the small joys matter.
Not as a distraction, but as a way to stay connected to life. Let a cup of tea, a kind text, or a moment of beauty carry weight. Small joys are not small.

4. Talk about the guilt.
If joy feels wrong right now, speak it out loud. Guilt is quieter when named. You’re not alone in this internal conflict—so many of us are holding it.

5. Remember: Your light helps others see.
You don’t have to be radiant. Just a flicker of warmth—your smile, your presence, your steadiness—can remind someone else that they, too, can keep going.

Finally…

This week, I’m not offering anything radically new.
And maybe that’s the point.

Coping isn’t about novelty—it’s about consistency.
The more you practice, the more your tools become familiar. When life gets overwhelming, you won’t have to scramble. You’ll know what steadies you.

So let yourself rest. Let yourself laugh—without apology. Let yourself reach for what helps you feel even a little bit more like yourself.

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Week 46: Rebuilding from Empty