I got drunk alone drinking wine,
as I tend to do during the period of spring,
I was sitting, my elbows on my knees,
when I suddenly held my hands up,
cupping them as if trying to catch water,
studying them,
unprompted, thoughts interrupted,
I whispered to myself,
“They’re so small …”
“How did I think
I could carry everything alone
when my hands are so small?”

And that was the moment drunk me put it into perspective for sober me. I can’t. I can’t carry everything on my own. I’m just one person. And that’s okay.

I talked to my sister about it a while after and she made a sobbing noise as I told her and we laughed about it. It was such an unusual thing and yet it held profound meaning to myself and also to her, who also struggles with taking on too much load.

Now, when I’m starting to feel overwhelmed, I cup my hands together and remind myself how small they are. I mean, they’re fairly average sized hands, and thicker than most, but it’s more metaphorical grounding. I think less about wishing I could carry more and more about what’s healthy for me to holding. Sometimes it really pays off to reflect on ourselves as individuals and cater to our needs and limitations rather than stretching ourselves thin just because we’re expected to.