When most people hear the word "weight," they immediately think of a number on a scale.
Trust me, I've spent enough time paying attention to those numbers over the past couple of years.
But lately I've been thinking about a different kind of weight.
The kind that doesn't show up on a doctor's chart.
The kind that can't be measured in pounds.
Because some of the heaviest things we carry aren't physical at all.
They're invisible.
The weight of worry.
The weight of regret.
The weight of things left unsaid.
The weight of expectations.
The weight of comparison.
The weight of uncertainty.
The weight of responsibility.
The weight of decisions.
The weight of tomorrow.
The weight we put on ourselves.
The funny thing is, if someone asked you how much these things weigh, you couldn't give them an answer.
Yet most of us know exactly what it feels like when we're carrying too much of them.
Have you ever spent an entire day worrying about something that hadn't even happened yet?
A medical test.
A financial problem.
A difficult conversation.
A family member going through something.
A car repair.
A car inspection after said car repair.
Wondering if the reason someone isn't messaging you back is because they're mad at you.
Worrying about some random pain, and where it may have come from, and assuming the worst.
Nothing physically changed about your day, but by the time your head hits the pillow, you're exhausted.
Why?
Because carrying weight is still carrying weight, even when nobody else can see it.
Then there's regret.
Most of us have something in our past we wish we could redo.
Something we should have done.
Something we shouldn't have done.
A decision we would change if given the opportunity.
The strange thing about regret is that it can follow you for years.
The event itself may have lasted only a few minutes, but the weight of it can stick around much longer if you let it.
I have a whole blog dedicated to one of my biggest regrets.
But there are also regrets for the things you didn't do.
Maybe you didn't go to that outing with your friends but you really wish you had.
You put off getting gas, and now you're running late, but you need to stop for gas now.
You ordered a chicken sandwich, checked under the top bun to make sure there wasn't a pickle, then you took a big bite.
Surprise, the pickle was underneath, and now it ruined your first bite.
Now you regret not checking underneath.
Then there's the weight of things left unsaid.
Maybe it's an apology you never gave.
Maybe it's a thank you that somebody deserved to hear, but you never got around to saying it.
Maybe it's telling someone how much they meant to you.
Maybe it's telling someone how much they hurt you.
The older I get, the more I realize words have weight.
Not just the ones we say.
The ones we don't say too.
Sometimes we convince ourselves there will always be another opportunity.
I'll call them tomorrow.
I'll text them later.
I'll tell them next time I see them.
Then life happens.
And suddenly tomorrow isn't guaranteed anymore.
Sometimes the words we never say end up weighing more than the words we do.
Expectations can be heavy too.
Sometimes they're expectations from other people.
Sometimes they're expectations we've placed on ourselves.
The pressure to have everything figured out.
The pressure to be successful.
The pressure to always have the right answer.
The pressure to somehow become the perfect version of ourselves.
There's nothing wrong with having goals.
But there comes a point where expectations stop motivating us and start weighing us down.
I throw a bowling ball that I expect to be a strike, and it leaves the ten pin.
Life can leave a lot of ten pins.
The thing is, you can still pick up the spare, and move on to the next frame.
Then there's the weight of comparison.
This one is especially easy to carry nowadays because social media practically hands it to us.
Somebody else is making more money.
Somebody else is in better shape.
Somebody else is married.
Somebody else has kids.
Somebody else has a bigger house.
Somebody else seems to have their entire life figured out.
The problem is that we're comparing our everyday life to somebody else's highlight reel.
Nobody posts the arguments.
Nobody posts the anxiety.
Nobody posts the sleepless nights.
Nobody posts the mistakes.
We're seeing the final score without watching the game.
And comparison is a game nobody wins.
No matter how much progress you make, there will always be somebody ahead of you in something.
If your happiness depends on catching them, you're signing up for a race that never ends.
As the saying goes, "Comparison is the thief of joy".
Then there's the weight of uncertainty.
Sometimes the problem itself isn't what weighs on us.
It's not knowing.
Not knowing what the doctor is going to say.
Not knowing what the mechanic is going to find.
Not knowing whether the bill is going to be $50 or $500.
Not knowing how a conversation is going to go.
Now knowing if that person is going to want to take a picture with you for your photo album.
Not knowing if you're going to have a good or bad day at work.
Human beings are remarkably good at filling in the blanks.
Unfortunately, we usually fill them in with worst-case scenarios.
I've lost count of the number of times I've spent days worrying about something, only for it to work itself out in five minutes.
Sometimes uncertainty weighs more than reality ever does.
Responsibility is another interesting one.
Being responsible is generally a good thing.
In fact, it's something most people strive for.
But responsibility has weight attached to it.
Being the person others rely on.
Being the dependable friend.
Being the one who shows up.
Being the one who has to make the difficult decisions.
Being the one who organizes the game nights.
Those are good burdens to carry, but they're still burdens.
Then there's the weight of decisions.
I don't think anybody talks about this one enough.
When you're younger, most of your decisions are relatively small.
Do I want the soda or the juice with my popcorn at the movies?
Do I want the Candy Apple or the Caramel Apple that my neighbor makes every Halloween?
Do I go to my 1st Grade crush's birthday party and risk getting cooties, or stay home and play my Game Boy instead?
Do I want to rent a movie or a video game from Blockbuster this weekend?
Do I want strawberry or grape jelly for my PB &J Sandwich?
As you get older, the stakes start getting higher.
Should I take this job?
Should I move?
Should I stay where I am?
Should I spend the money?
Should I save it?
Should I take the risk?
Should I play it safe?
Every decision feels like it closes the door on another possibility.
Sometimes we become so afraid of making the wrong decision that we end up making no decision at all.
But indecision has a weight of its own.
Eventually you realize there is no such thing as a life without mistakes.
The best you can do is make the decision with the information you have, learn from the results, and keep moving forward.
Then there's the weight of tomorrow.
I think this is one that catches a lot of people.
How many times have we spent today worrying about something that might happen next week?
Or next month?
Or next year?
I've certainly been guilty of it.
We take tomorrow's problems, drag them into today, and then wonder why we're tired.
The future eventually arrives on its own.
It doesn't need our help getting here faster.
Tomorrow is already going to be tomorrow, it doesn't need to be today too.
There's also the weight we put on ourselves.
Have you ever noticed how much kinder you are to other people than you are to yourself?
A friend makes a mistake and you tell them everybody messes up.
You make the exact same mistake and suddenly you're replaying it in your head for the next three days.
A friend falls short of a goal and you encourage them to keep going.
You fall short of a goal and you start questioning whether you're capable of reaching it at all.
We extend grace to other people all the time.
Sometimes we're terrible at extending it to ourselves.
I've spent plenty of time criticizing myself over things that nobody else even noticed.
Carrying around mistakes.
Carrying around failures.
Carrying around expectations that only existed in my own head.
That's a lot of unnecessary weight for one person to carry.
Not disappearing completely.
Just becoming lighter.
Financial stress.
Self-doubt.
The feeling of being stuck.
The feeling that change wasn't possible.
The scale was measuring one type of progress, but it wasn't measuring everything.
Some of the most meaningful improvements in life never show up as a number.
They show up in the way you think.
The way you react.
The way you sleep.
The way you carry yourself.
The way you look toward the future.
So here's the question I've been thinking about lately:
If someone could see all the weight you're carrying—not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually—how heavy would it be?
And more importantly...
What are you still carrying that you no longer need to?
As always, thanks for taking the time to read this, until next week!
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