You are not here to carry everyone else’s pain.
You’re not a dumping ground for emotional garbage.
You’re not a sponge to soak up every ounce of chaos, drama, or trauma just because someone else can’t hold their own.
People’s lives are designed by the choices they make. Their chaos, their struggles, their storms come from how they decide to show up in the world.It’s not your job to fix that for them, or to carry the weight of their consequences.
Detachment is the radical, fierce rebellion against the expectation that you exist to absorb the storms of others. It’s drawing a hard line in the sand and saying, “This is where your storm ends. This is where my peace begins.”
Don't confuse detachment with coldness or apathy. It’s not about shutting down or walking away from care. It’s about caring enough to protect your heart. Choosing love, without losing yourself. Choosing compassion without collapse. Choosing to be fully present without losing your center. Because without detachment you’ll risk dissolving into the chaos until all that’s left is ashes.
I’m sharing this as a reminder to myself. One moment, I was good and the next I found myself drowning. This past week was a result of forgetting.
I felt a little more stressed then usually so scheduled a “mental health” day because I knew I needed it, but when that day arrived, I realized I’d waited too long. I crumbled. My body rebelled. I almost lost myself entirely
Almost.
If it weren’t for my daily self-Reiki practice, my lifeline and anchor, I would have.
For me, detachment combined with Reiki is a sacred, fierce practice, holding space for myself and others without losing my footing. It’s standing tall when the world expects you to be everyone’s emotional safety net. It’s saying “no” without shame and “yes” without sacrifice.
But here’s the thing, detachment is an art, like Reiki, it requires practice, patience, and presence. It’s not something we master once and for all. It’s something we return to, again and again, each time we feel ourselves slipping.
So, stop apologizing for guarding your peace.
Stop feeling guilty for setting boundaries.
Stop carrying burdens that don’t belong to you.
Own your space.
Own your energy.
Own your life.
Detachment isn’t surrender. It’s showing up, fully alive, fiercely present, and utterly free.