There are moments — quiet ones, chaotic ones — when I catch myself swimming in feelings that don’t quite belong to me.

A tension in my chest after a phone call. A heaviness that clings after sitting with someone in pain. A wave of irritability that arrives out of nowhere, settling into my body like it has every right to stay.

For so long, I assumed these feelings were mine. I carried them. Owned them. Tried to fix them. I built stories around them, trying to make sense of what I felt — only to realise I was walking around in someone else’s storm.

The truth is, not every feeling is yours to keep.

Some emotions are borrowed. Some are absorbed through empathy, through proximity, through love. Some are echoes of someone else’s grief, anger, or fear. And when we are sensitive, open-hearted, or simply human — it’s easy to forget the difference.

There is power in pausing and asking gently, “Is this mine?”

This question has become a sacred checkpoint in my days. It creates space — not to dismiss what I feel, but to discern. To recognise when my body is responding to energy, not truth. To honour the way I’m wired without becoming a sponge for every emotion around me.

When we start to notice what’s ours and what isn’t, we begin to loosen our grip on stories that don’t belong to us. We stop trying to fix what we never broke. We come home to ourselves — our real feelings, our real needs, our real rhythm.

Letting go of what’s not ours doesn’t mean we stop caring. It means we care wisely. Softly. With boundaries that protect our peace and presence.

You are allowed to feel deeply and still choose what you carry.

You are allowed to let some feelings pass through — like clouds across a sky that belongs to no one.

So the next time something stirs within you, take a breath.

Place a hand on your heart.

And ask:

“Is this mine?”

If not, let it move on.

You were never meant to hold the whole world.

‍