Hey Love,

There’s something I need to say—something I’ve been noticing, and I don’t think you’re fully aware of it. You’re carrying too much. Not just in your hands but in your mind. Your thoughts are constantly racing. Your shoulders are tense. Even when you sit still, your mind doesn’t stop moving. And even though you might not admit it, it’s weighing you down.

You need to unload the mental load.

I can see that you’re trying. You’re doing your best to hold it together. You’re trying to move forward, trying to stay strong, but your thoughts are looping. You’re still showing up, still smiling, still going through the motions. But inside, your mind is caught in a loop—replaying conversations, imagining worst-case scenarios, doubting decisions, questioning yourself. You’re constantly bracing for things that may never happen. You’re replaying situations that won’t happen, worrying about outcomes that aren’t real, and exhausting yourself over things you can’t control. This cycle isn’t helping you—it’s keeping you stuck.

That’s exhausting.

You’ve already taken some big steps in the right direction. I see that. You’ve stepped back from certain roles, you’ve said “no” where you used to say “yes,” and you’ve been working on letting go of things that are no longer yours to carry. You’ve let go of roles and expectations that drained you. But at the same time, you’re still holding on to unnecessary questions, pointless overthinking, and doubts that serve no purpose. It’s like you’ve set the heavy bags down, but you’re still checking them every few minutes—just in case. It’s okay to admit that you’re still holding on, just a little. Still overthinking, still worrying, still unsure if it’s really okay to stop.

Also Read: Let them in, Let love in – BlogchatterA2Z

Let me remind you: it is.

Let yourself fully step away. Give yourself permission to not have it all figured out. To not have the answers right now.
It’s okay to rest without guilt. It’s okay to stop trying to hold everything and everyone together. It’s okay to stop trying to fix things that aren’t even broken anymore.

Remember Lord Shiva in the Samudra Manthan story? The gods and demons churned the ocean to obtain Amrit, the nectar of immortality. But before the nectar emerged, Halahala, the deadly poison, rose to the surface. Everyone panicked. No one knew what to do. And it was Shiva who stepped up calmly and drank the poison to protect the world. But what did he do after that? He didn’t go into battle, he didn’t start fixing every problem—he rested. He went into deep meditation, letting the poison settle, letting his body and mind regain balance. That pause wasn’t weakness. It was wisdom.

You’re in your own version of that moment. You’ve taken in so much emotionally—now you need space to let it settle. You need quiet. You need stillness. And you need to stop punishing yourself for needing it.

Remember the story of Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita? On the battlefield, when he was overwhelmed with emotion, doubt, and fear, he didn’t just charge ahead. He stopped. He questioned everything. He admitted his confusion and pain. And in that pause—when he allowed himself to feel instead of fight—he received clarity. He found his purpose again. That pause changed everything.

You’re in a similar space right now. A battlefield of the mind. And instead of pushing through it, maybe what you need is to sit with it. Ask yourself the hard questions. Allow yourself to be uncertain. And give yourself the grace to heal at your own pace.

This in-between space might feel uncomfortable. It might even feel wrong. But it’s necessary. It’s not a setback—it’s a reset. I know you don’t enjoy this in-between space—the slow pace, the stillness, the quiet. You feel like you’re not doing enough, not being productive, not “yourself.” But this phase is important. You’re not going backward. You’re just resetting.

And if you’re honest with yourself, you might realize that part of you is resisting this rest. Maybe you’re hoping things will snap back to how they were. Maybe you’re afraid that pausing means giving up. But it doesn’t. It means you’re choosing to take care of yourself in a way you haven’t done before.

And you don’t have to do it all alone.

Let people hold space for you the way you’ve always held space for others. Let silence soothe you instead of scare you. Let stillness rebuild you, not shame you. You don’t have to prove your strength by carrying more. Sometimes, the real strength lies in knowing when to set things down.

So I’m asking you to really lean into this moment. Be present—not for anyone else, just for yourself. Stop overanalyzing, stop predicting, stop preparing for the worst. Stop trying to perfect it. Stop fast-forwarding. Stop narrating a future that hasn’t happened yet.

Just be here.

You don’t have to solve everything today. You don’t have to fix anything at all. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. What you need is space—to breathe, to reflect, to recover. That’s how you get your clarity back. That’s how you find your peace. That’s how you come back home to yourself. That’s how you rebuild—stronger, softer, wiser.

Even if this moment is quiet. Even if it’s heavy. Even if it’s messy. It’s real. And you’re real. That’s enough. Live in the moment. Even if it feels unfamiliar or uncomfortable, just live. You’re allowed to let go. You’re allowed to stop. You’re allowed to just be.

And when you’re ready, you’ll rise again. Not because you forced yourself to, but because rest gave you the strength to.

With all my love,
Your Sunshine

“I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z”