Carrying the Weight of the World and How to Stay Afloat

By Lucy Walker-Hall

The Quiet Load 

Have you ever felt like the world is pressing down on your shoulders, and no one else can see it? Like you’re slowly slipping under the surface with nothing to hold onto? 

Personal Reflection  

The month of September was an extremely challenging one for me, perhaps one of the hardest I’ve faced in a long time.  I had to make some incredibly difficult decisions, the kind that don’t just affect policies or procedures, but real people’s lives. People I care about. People who rely on me to lead with strength and compassion. 

Emotionally, I felt raw. I was anxious, constantly second-guessing myself, and carrying a deep sense of responsibility that felt heavier than usual. I found myself waking up in the middle of the night with my mind racing, unable to switch off. The pressure was relentless. Physically, I was drained. My body ached from the tension I was holding. I was pushing through headaches and fatigue because there simply wasn’t time to stop. 

My load is always heavy — that’s just the baseline I’ve learned to live with. But when I say I’m stressed or struggling, what I really mean is: I’m drowning here, and I need a hand to keep me safe. 

It’s hard to explain that to people who only ever see the surface. I’ve become so good at carrying things quietly that even my calls for help sound like whispers. But the truth is, I’ve been stretched thin — emotionally, mentally, and physically — and I’ve reached a point where pretending I’m fine just isn’t sustainable. 

The Bigger Picture  

I run a business that supports young adults with complex needs. It’s work that matters deeply to me. Their happiness and wellbeing rely on my team doing their jobs with care, compassion, and consistency. 

I have around 55 employees. I feel responsible not just for their work, but for their wellbeing, their stability, their futures. In a highly regulated industry, the pressure to maintain high standards isn’t just professional — it’s personal. 

My two adult children, my husband, and my mum also all work within my business, so I feel responsible for them too. 

And while I’m proud of what we’ve built, the truth is that carrying all of this — the people, the expectations, the responsibility — can feel like carrying the weight of the world. 

I know I’m not the only one. So many people are quietly holding up entire ecosystems — families, teams, communities — while trying to stay afloat themselves. We don’t always talk about it, but the emotional labour of leadership, caregiving, and responsibility is real. And it’s heavy. 

The Inner Landscape 

I’m neurodivergent. My brain works in a way that’s uniquely mine, and honestly, it’s been my superpower. I’m a problem-solver, a multitasker, a smile-bringer. I bring energy into every room I walk into. In my family and social circles, I’m known for being creative, spontaneous, and a lot of fun. I say what I mean, and I do what I say I will. 

But the flip side of that is this: there’s very little room for rest. Tiredness feels like failure. When you’re the one who keeps things moving, who lifts others up, who always has a solution, people don’t always see when you need a break. 

I’ve started to realise that even the strongest, most capable people need space to breathe. That being high-functioning doesn’t mean being invincible. And that asking for help, or even just saying “I’m not okay,” doesn’t make me any less of a leader, a mother, or a force of nature. 

It just makes me human. I guess I struggle to see myself that way. 

Closing Thoughts  

September is over. My business is strong and healthy, and so am I. 

I get up every day and smile, but I kick my legs and keep swimming. 

I arrive in the office ready to lead, inspire, support, and motivate. I tell my family I love them. I learn from every challenge. I move forward. 

I remind myself that this is the path I’ve chosen to walk, and I would choose it again every day. 

I practise gratitude — for my team, my family, and the miracle of my existence. 

I don’t share this for sympathy; I share it because I know I’m not the only one. There are so many of us carrying more than we let on, showing up every day with a smile while quietly holding the world on our shoulders, letting it push us under the surface. 

I’ll leave you with this.  

If someone tells you they are struggling, check: is the weight too much? Are they drowning? Do they need a hand to stay afloat? 

If you’re carrying something heavy, you’re not alone. It’s okay to need a hand to hold onto. 

💜 As we recognise Mental Health Awareness Month, I hope this serves as a reminder that strength doesn’t mean silence. 

Behind every leader, carer, or parent who seems to have it all together, there’s a human being doing their best to stay afloat. 

Let’s keep talking about it, and keep reaching out to those who carry more than they show. 

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