The Weight We Were Never Meant to Carry

Sometimes healing doesn't feel like progress. It feels like walking in circles, carrying the same pain day after day and wondering whether anything is actually changing.

When I transitioned to a career in life coaching, I knew I loved working with others on “the big stuff.” No fluff - simply kind, compassionate, candid conversations about real struggles without judgment.

What I did not expect was how often clients' experiences would reflect my own. Time and time again, I received questions from clients about the very topics I had been mulling over in my personal life. The difference, though, is when talking to others, I do not have the same blind spots that keep me from reaching a conclusion or solving a problem.

Not long ago, I recognized that I felt stuck in a holding pattern, destined to endlessly repeat the same cycle, over and over and over. The same thoughts (or more accurately, ruminations), emotions, migraines, chronic pain, poor appetite, poor sleep... Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Very intentionally, I decided to work on grief and heartbreak, two difficult emotions that continued to hold me back, causing me to question everything I know. I brought a high-level overview of the issue to a group I trust. Within minutes several members homed in on where I was stuck. The group gently nudged me:

"You are ready to move on."

"You have the strength."

"Put out the what and why. The how is not for you to know."

Without knowing the intimate details, their insight was perfect. They showed me grace, love, understanding, and compassion when others showed me judgment, contempt, and blame. These are my people.

A week later, I decided to put action into their words by going on an impromptu hike.

I tell lots of stories about my hikes because they are my favorite local activity, and freely hiking without being held back by others is new to me. I also find my solo hikes profound for many reasons. Nature is my teacher.

When I spend time in nature, I always start with a prayer of intention, gratitude, protection, and guidance. For this hike, I felt a strong pull to continue what the group had reminded me.

What do I need to know today to help me let go of the heartbreak and grief?

Learning to Choose Myself

As I walked up the steep rocky path, my body wanted me to stop.

What am I doing out here by myself? My calf and ankle really hurt. I didn't plan enough. I'm too tired. Maybe I should go home and rest...

Inside, though, I felt a drive.

Keep going. There's healing to be found up there. Keep moving forward...

The elevation gain was just over 1,000 feet—mild for Colorado. The past few years stole my youth, and I found the ascent somewhat taxing. Still, there was something up there intuitively drawing me upward.

I reflected on my intention.

"What do I need to know today to help me let go of the heartbreak and grief?"

A repeating memory quickly flooded my consciousness.

"You stole the best years of my life!"

I recognized the hurt goes deep and I still had healing work ahead of me.

Learning to find myself and do the things I want is new for me. I've been on more hikes in the past three months than I have in the rest of my entire life. Prior to this year, I would sit at home looking out at the beautiful weather and wish I could be out hiking. Internal struggles, relationship dynamics, and life demands kept me inside, protected by limiting thoughts and consideration of others' needs above my own.

While healing from codependency, and the emotional abuse that came with it, I learned that it's okay to do what I want, within reason. I also learned to be in the moment instead of living in my default state of dissociation.

Now, when I hike, I make the conscious choice to leave behind my heartbreak, anxiety, and the rest of the noise in my head. Instead, I actively scan my environment - not for threats as I was programmed by cruelty around me - but for what the world wants me to experience today.

What do I see?... hear?... feel?... smell?... experience?

Walking the path, I soaked in the fall browns, yellows, oranges, and, my favorite, deep reds. For a moment, I felt great sadness that the leaves were falling in preparation for winter. I reminded myself that we all need time to hibernate and rest.

Then, unexpectedly, a small lizard scurried across a nearby rock.

Later, I saw a squirrel frolicking in the leaves and heard several birds having an intense argument.

The woods were alive that day.

Rising Above

The trees cleared and the flatirons stood proudly with their angled heads reaching for the heavens.

Then I understood a beautiful and poignant metaphor.

While climbing, I was leaving the residual traumas of my past behind, rising above them into my new, meaningful, purpose-filled future.

The lesson was not really about the mountain. The climb simply revealed something that is easy to miss in everyday life.

Extra Backpacks

Many of us carry far more than what belongs in our pack.

We carry old hurts long after the wound has closed. We carry guilt for things we cannot change, responsibility for other people's choices, and stories about ourselves that may have once protected us but no longer serve us. Over time, the weight becomes so familiar that we stop questioning whether we were ever meant to carry it in the first place.

What struck me during the hike was how naturally we accept unnecessary burdens. We rarely stop and ask, "Is this still mine to carry?" Instead, we adjust to the weight and keep moving forward, wondering why life feels harder than it should.

The challenge is not learning how to carry more. The challenge is recognizing what can be set down.

Sometimes healing is not about adding another tool, insight, or strategy.

"Sometimes it is about releasing what no longer belongs in our backpack."

Rising above our challenges does not mean pretending they never happened. It does not erase grief, heartbreak, or difficult experiences. It also does not mean we approve of others' behavior.

Rather, it means refusing to let them define every step forward.

When we begin setting down what no longer serves us, we create space for something new. The path ahead may not change, but the journey feels very different when we are no longer carrying unnecessary weight.

A Higher Perspective

Tired, I reached the top, turned the corner, and my face lit up.

The golden clearing ahead took my breath away.

All I could do was smile, more precisely, beam with joyous appreciation.

I walked to the center of the clearing, mindful to stay on the path, and stopped to revel in the calming energy. The gold grasses of the field extending through the trees lining the base of the flatirons reminded me to stay grounded no matter what poked through my day.

This was what I had been anticipating all morning - sanctum.

I paused for several minutes and said a prayer of thanksgiving.

On the return leg of the hike, I soaked in the view of Denver, the hillside speckled with fall colors, and the gravel trail winding around the b

ends.

Around one bend I heard the knocking of a woodpecker. Again, I was surprised given the fall weather. Don't woodpeckers migrate? I learned later that while some do, others stay year-round.

I took a detour along the mountainside a little longer.

Hiking down the switchbacks, I was greeted with the plaid fall colors of the brush and grasses. On the way back to the main trail, I heard the familiar raspy scream of a red-tailed hawk flying above. The hawk gracefully circled, giving me time to soak in the experience.

At home, I looked up the spiritual meaning of hawks and found that, in addition to clarity and seeing the big picture, hawks also represent:

"Courage, power, and freedom that encourages one to rise above challenges with purpose and determination."

The symbolism felt like a gentle reminder of what the hike had already shown me. 

Bradley Hughes is the founder of Warrior Within Coaching. He helps people create a life worth living through purpose, resilience, and meaningful personal growth.