The Weight We Were Never Meant to Carry
By This Thing Called Grief
"The world has always carried heartbreak. Today, we simply know more about it than ever before. Compassion doesn't require us to carry every sorrow we encounter. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do, for ourselves and for others, is to set down the stones that were never ours to carry, so we still have the strength to carry the ones that are."
I know that right now everything can feel existential. Maybe it feels as though so much is happening, so much is changing, that the world is somehow broken beyond repair.
Some people seem to absorb the endless 24 hour cycle of chaos happening around the globe and continue on seemingly unscathed. Others catch only glimpses between home decor videos, golden retriever puppies, vacation photos, and recipes, thanks to the algorithms, yet still find themselves emotionally drained by the weight of it all.
It made me wonder...
How did we get our news before Instagram, Facebook, X, TikTok, and the endless stream of notifications?
How did we survive without fifty thousand armchair experts repeating information they heard somewhere else, much like the telephone game we all played in kindergarten?
Every morning the newspaper arrived on our doorstep. We watched the evening news. Maybe we caught the 11 o'clock news before going to bed.
And somehow, that was enough.
Do we honestly believe that everything printed between the front page and the comics represented everything that was happening in the world?
Of course not.
Halfway across the world, someone was attending the funeral of a loved one. Somewhere else, parents were receiving devastating news about their child. Families were losing their homes. Wars were being fought. Lives were changing forever.
Those tragedies happened whether we knew about them or not.
The difference is that today we know about almost all of them.
The question isn't whether we should care.
We should.
The question is whether we were ever meant to carry the emotional weight of every tragedy unfolding around the globe, especially the ones we have absolutely no power to change.
The truth is, our hearts were never designed to carry the grief of the entire world all at once.
Compassion is a beautiful thing, but compassion without boundaries becomes exhaustion. We can find ourselves grieving wars we've never witnessed, disasters we cannot change, strangers we've never met, while forgetting to notice the person sitting beside us who quietly needs a conversation, a meal, or a hug.
Being informed matters. Caring matters. But there is also wisdom in recognizing the difference between what we can witness and what we can influence.
If every headline leaves you feeling anxious, hopeless, or emotionally drained, it may be time to ask yourself a simple question.
Is this information helping me make a meaningful difference, or is it simply placing another stone into pockets that are already far too full?
The difficult part is that no one asks permission.
Each notification.
Each heartbreaking headline.
The Facebook groups where a simple question or difference of opinion can quickly become an opportunity for sarcasm, condescension, and schoolyard bullying, as though being the loudest voice somehow matters more than being kind.
Another tragic video.
Another frightening prediction.
Another argument between strangers.
Without realizing it, another stone quietly slips into our pockets until we're walking through life wondering why every step feels so heavy.
Perhaps the healthiest response isn't to consume more, but to connect more.
Turn off the phone for a while.
Sit on the porch.
Call your mom.
Visit a friend.
Volunteer.
Smile at a stranger.
Check in on the neighbour who has been unusually quiet.
Read a book.
Watch the sunset.
Be fully present with the people whose lives you can actually touch.
This Thing Called Grief
Sam Vander Schelde BSW MSW RSW, Thanatologist
Kim Vander Schelde, Grief, Bereavement & Loss Specialist, Thanatologist