From: Leah in Atlanta, GA
Subject: I Don’t Know How to Keep Carrying This

“Michael, I don’t know how to keep doing this. I’m the one everyone leans on—my family, my co-workers, my friends. But lately, I’m just… done. I feel numb. I don’t have space to fall apart, but I don’t know how to keep standing either. How does God expect me to keep carrying everything?”

Dear Leah,

Let me begin with this: you’re not weak for feeling the weight. You’re aware. And awareness (true, clear-eyed, soul-deep awareness) isn’t a liability; it’s the beginning of wisdom.

You’re the one holding the line. And that means you’ve been blessed with a kind of strength that not everyone has—the ability to stay standing while others lean. But even steel bends under pressure. Even the strongest oak needs water and rest.

You’ve likely internalized a message: quiet, cultural, and sometimes even religious, that says, “If I rest, I fail. If I admit I’m tired, I’ll break everything I’ve held together.” But listen closely: strength in God’s economy is not the absence of fatigue—it’s the refusal to surrender your soul to it.

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A Responsible Life Is a Heavy Life

There’s a noble burden to being the one others trust. But don’t confuse being needed with being invincible. A responsible life is a heavy life. And it’s precisely because you’ve chosen to walk the harder road—sacrifice over escape, faithfulness over self-preservation—that you feel this so deeply.

You remind me of the woman in Proverbs 31—a passage often misunderstood as a Pinterest to-do list. It’s not. It’s a portrait of a warrior:

“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come… She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
— Proverbs 31:25, 27

This is not soft sentiment. This is ancient steel. A woman who sees the chaos, feels the weight—and still rises. Not because she’s superhuman, but because she’s anchored in something deeper than herself.

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You Were Never Meant to Carry It Alone

The enemy loves isolated strength. He doesn’t need to destroy you—just convince you to do it alone. That’s how he topples the strong. He cuts off their supply line.

So don’t believe the lie that says “If I stop, I fail.” The truth is: rest is resistance. Sabbath is strength. Asking for help is not collapsing—it’s choosing to be sustained.

You weren’t built to carry the world. That’s God’s job. Yours is to carry the piece He’s given you—with wisdom, with boundaries, and with faith.

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What Does It Look Like to Keep Going?

It looks like staying anchored in God’s Word when your feelings scream otherwise.
It looks like getting up tomorrow and doing what needs to be done—not because it’s easy, but because your character says it matters.
It looks like saying no sometimes, not out of guilt, but out of clarity.
And it looks like reaching up in the dark and whispering, “Lord, I need Your strength, not mine.” And, as hard as it may be reaching out to others and saying, “I need your help.”

This is your threshing floor. A place where God strips away what’s performative and reveals what’s real: not a woman who’s perfect—but a woman, a warrior who’s still standing.

“The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.”
— Psalm 29:11

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So keep showing up—not to prove your worth, but to live out your calling. God isn’t looking for polished perfection. He’s looking for people who stay faithful when it’s thankless, who stay rooted when others run.

That’s you.

With strength and resolve,
Michael Vowell