Thank you for writing this–not as a performance, but as a presence. For reminding me that being steady doesn’t mean being untouched. That carrying others is holy work, but so is setting it down.
Thank you for lifting, even through your own breaking.
That means more than you know. You nailed it, being steady ain’t about being untouched. It’s about standing still while everything else shakes. Respect for seeing that.
AI can’t fake what I’ve lived through…it doesn’t bleed, it doesn’t lose people, it doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night still hearing echoes from a cell…. So next time you run someone’s story through a robot for validation, make sure it’s not your empathy that’s malfunctioning.
Oh my god. I’ve called myself a train before, where the luggage rattles but passengers remain safe. Kept still and steady against the tracks that try to hurt them.
To put this into words that others will read and respond to, is incredibly brave. I love this. I see you.
That train image hit hard. I felt that. You get it ... how the steel stays straight so others don’t derail. That’s a hell of a metaphor. Glad this one found you.
I'm feeling this with you. I'm so glad you're processing all of this. it helps to have an outlet, right? Bittersweet of course, because it hurts to write and is scary to publish. But worth it.
This hit me straight in the chest. You’ve put language to something so many of us live but rarely name — that quiet, aching cost of being the one who holds. How strength can turn into a kind of disappearance, and how learning to set things down, rather than let them go, becomes its own kind of healing.
I love the shift through the piece — from absorbing everyone’s storms to handing them water and waiting. That feels like such a gentle, hard-won wisdom. The line “rest used to feel like surrender; now it feels like survival” stayed with me — it’s such a simple, beautiful truth.
Your writing always carries this mix of steadiness and ache that makes people feel seen. I’ve missed seeing you pop up lately — the space feels quieter without your voice. I hope you’re okay, and that you’re giving yourself the same care you write about so honestly.
Thank you for writing and it is so nice to hear your voice again
Like I always say it's not about the phoenix rising from the ashes and starting over. It's about the phoenix walking through the ashes, being resilient and getting stronger.
this post was everything. I could feel it while I read your words. I could relate to every sentence. thankyou for sharing this with us.
Well written
Appreciate that, Swonam. Some pieces write themselves. This one bled out slow.
True
Thank you for writing this–not as a performance, but as a presence. For reminding me that being steady doesn’t mean being untouched. That carrying others is holy work, but so is setting it down.
Thank you for lifting, even through your own breaking.
That means more than you know. You nailed it, being steady ain’t about being untouched. It’s about standing still while everything else shakes. Respect for seeing that.
I checked the post with It's AI detector and it shows that it's 90% generated!
AI can’t fake what I’ve lived through…it doesn’t bleed, it doesn’t lose people, it doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night still hearing echoes from a cell…. So next time you run someone’s story through a robot for validation, make sure it’s not your empathy that’s malfunctioning.
Oh my god. I’ve called myself a train before, where the luggage rattles but passengers remain safe. Kept still and steady against the tracks that try to hurt them.
To put this into words that others will read and respond to, is incredibly brave. I love this. I see you.
That train image hit hard. I felt that. You get it ... how the steel stays straight so others don’t derail. That’s a hell of a metaphor. Glad this one found you.
Great post, thankyou brother!
Appreciate you, brother. Glad it reached you. Keep standing tall. We carry different things, but the weight’s the same.
I'm feeling this with you. I'm so glad you're processing all of this. it helps to have an outlet, right? Bittersweet of course, because it hurts to write and is scary to publish. But worth it.
Beautifully written. The rescuer is very resonant for me. Tx for the light 🙏
This hit me straight in the chest. You’ve put language to something so many of us live but rarely name — that quiet, aching cost of being the one who holds. How strength can turn into a kind of disappearance, and how learning to set things down, rather than let them go, becomes its own kind of healing.
I love the shift through the piece — from absorbing everyone’s storms to handing them water and waiting. That feels like such a gentle, hard-won wisdom. The line “rest used to feel like surrender; now it feels like survival” stayed with me — it’s such a simple, beautiful truth.
Your writing always carries this mix of steadiness and ache that makes people feel seen. I’ve missed seeing you pop up lately — the space feels quieter without your voice. I hope you’re okay, and that you’re giving yourself the same care you write about so honestly.
Thank you for writing and it is so nice to hear your voice again
Like I always say it's not about the phoenix rising from the ashes and starting over. It's about the phoenix walking through the ashes, being resilient and getting stronger.