Burning Beneath

My whole life, I have always helped the people around me.

Whether they asked for help or not.

I feel things deeply.

And when I feel something, I act on it.

Sometimes I’m right.

Sometimes I’m wrong.

But it has always kept me aligned with my true self.

It has always kept my heart clear and my intentions honest.

I trust my gut.

I trust my feelings.

And I trust that when I reach out to someone, it comes from a place of care.

When I came to Canada and continued living the same way I always had, I started getting pushback. People told me I was crossing boundaries. That I shouldn’t give opinions or suggestions. That I should stay in my lane.

So I did something that was very unnatural for me.

I stopped.

I kept to myself.

I held back my words.

I ignored my instincts.

At one point I was even labeled codependent.

But the truth is much simpler than that.

When someone talks to me about their struggles, their frustrations, or the chaos in their life, my instinct is not to fix them. I don’t think I have the answers to their problems.

What I do is something else.

I try to feel with them.

If someone is carrying weight on their shoulders, I simply try to hold a corner of that weight for a moment.

Not to take it away.

Not to solve it.

Just so they are not carrying it alone.

That has always been my intention.

But after the cultural shock and the reactions I received, I began holding myself back. I started questioning my nature.

And then life hit me in a way I was not prepared for.

Two beautiful souls who crossed my path ended their lives.

The second one broke me completely.

I fell into deep depression.

I developed severe anxiety and panic attacks.

To the point that I could not work anymore.

I became disabled by the storm in my own mind.

And for a long time I blamed myself.

Why didn’t I reach out again?

Why did I keep my distance?

Why did I silence my instincts?

Those questions lived inside my head and my soul for a long time.

Eventually, I came to a hard truth.

I cannot control what is meant to happen in someone else’s life.

I cannot carry responsibility for choices that are not mine.

All I can offer is presence.

A listening ear.

A moment of compassion.

Nothing more.

And maybe… that is enough.

So yes.

I will probably always be the weirdo wherever I go.

The one who checks in.

The one who asks if someone is okay.

The one who listens when others would walk away.

But honestly?

I don’t care anymore.

Because if my gut tells me to reach out to someone…

I will.

Every single time.