The Weight We Hold, The Support We Need

On the quiet burden of holding it all in, and learning to lean into support.

Take a moment. Notice your shoulders. Can you relax them?

Phew. This was unexpected.

Last Friday, as I was getting ready to go to school, I glanced at my shoes. It was sunny, so I decided to switch from my winter boots to my summer shoes. I moved the arch support from the winter ones into the summer ones.

But before I even slipped my foot in, I felt it again, that old fear. The fear that changing shoes might bring back the pain in my leg. Still, I had to do it. So I did. I put the insoles in and tried them on.

And oh my goodness – I had that somatic feeling again.

It was like something inside me softened. Emotions began to rise, slowly. I checked the time and allowed myself a few extra minutes to just stand there, to feel this quiet support coming up from the soles of my feet into my body. The summer shoes already had a slight arch, so adding the insole kind of doubled the support. Physically. And emotionally.

It felt so good.

A little sadness came through too.

Then I had to go. I put on music, the sad kind, and cried the whole way on the SkyTrain to school, hiding my tears behind my sunglasses. Not just a few tears, but a slow, steady, quiet cry. Like something long-held was finally moving. Once I arrived at school, a friend asked how I was, and it all came out, that deep, visceral, cathartic cry. I’ve cried on and off these past months, but this was different. Clearly, I was still holding a lot.

That day was a counselling day where we counsel each other, so I chose to be the client first. Another cathartic cry. Two in a row. That’s a first. I didn’t even know how much I’d been holding. But wow… I carried so much. Every day. All day long. Without realizing.

It made me think of that line from Braveheart or GameStop — “Hold… hold… hold…” The tension before the release. That moment when everything in you wants to act or break or scream, but you don’t. You just keep holding.

It reminds me of another story from that week. A friend shared a dream with me. In the dream, she was at a party, feeling free, light, playful, stress-free. It stood in stark contrast to her daily life, where she carries so much fear of being judged. Like she has to hold herself a certain way to be safe. Holding back her truth. Holding in her joy. Holding it all to survive.

We do that. So many of us do.

It’s hard to release.

Hard to feel safe.

Hard to be who we truly are.

Especially when we’ve been taught to show up a certain way, at work, at home, for our family… There’s this constant expectation to hold it all together. To keep going. To be functional. To pay the bills. To be “fine”.

Take a breath. Where are your shoulders now? Can you relax them?

We’re not taught to ask for help. We’re not taught to lean on others.

Society is built on individualism. “You should be able to do it all by yourself.” Just in case. Just in case the worst happens. Be prepared. Be strong.

But always preparing for something that might happen? That’s a whole other kind of burden. A slow, quiet toll on the nervous system.

It’s not that I don’t have support. I could have financial support if I really needed it. But it’s not something I even consider. It doesn’t feel like an option. I have to survive alone.

And I do have emotional support, from my partner, my friends. But I think… I don’t receive it. Not fully. I didn’t get much emotional support growing up, and I didn’t learn how to receive it. So now maybe part of me is still scared to.

My nervous system is probably still protecting me. My heart might still be afraid. But it’s opening. Slowly. I can feel that. Thanks to the work I’ve done over the years. Thanks to the kids I used to care after. Thanks to classmates who truly see me.

And still, there’s fear.

It’s so hard for some of us to receive emotional support.

To lean in without fear.

But maybe we can bring just a little more support into our lives, each day. Maybe that’s the starting place. And from there, we build trust, trust that it’s okay to ask. That it’s okay to receive. Without guilt. Without shame.

I think I’m ready to ask for more help and support and to lean into what it actually feels like to receive it. I’m still exploring what support really means for me, without my shoes ;), and what’s been in the way of fully letting it in. For now, I treated myself to an acupuncture session a few days ago to help realign emotionally and take care of myself. And I’m even considering getting an acupressure mat for my feet!

So how do we feel supported? How do we feel the act of leaning in, also when support is actually there, but we don’t feel it?

Maybe… we pause.

We acknowledge.

We name it.

We breathe into it.

We feel it as gratitude.

We feel it as support.

With intention.

Here are a few simple somatic practices to feel supported:

• Lean into something. Sit or lie down with your back against a chair, your bed, or a wall. Bring your awareness to the sensation of being held. See if you can let your body feel that support. Try whispering to yourself: “I am allowed to rest into support.”
• Let someone hold you. Ask a trusted friend to hold you physically. Close your eyes and notice what it’s like to not hold yourself up for a moment. Let go, even just a little. Retrain your nervous system to associate letting gowith safety.
• Ask for help, before the outburst. Don’t wait until it all spills over. Ask now. Soften now. Try one small thing. It doesn’t take much.

We all need a little more support.

We just have to realize it before it screams out of us.

It only takes a moment.

Each day.

Each breath.

How are you feeling now? Where are your shoulders? Can you relax them… just a little more?