What Writing About Kindness Taught Me
When I began writing The Weight of Kindness, I thought I was telling a story about compassion. And I was—but what I didn’t expect was how deeply it would challenge my own ideas about strength.
In caregiving professions, strength is often mistaken for silence. We’re taught to hold it together, to stay composed, to carry on no matter what. But as I followed the emotional journeys of Sarah, David, and Mia, I began to see strength differently. It isn’t about suppression—it’s about presence. About showing up, even when you’re unraveling a little. About honesty, not perfection.
David’s struggle with PTSD, Sarah’s emotional exhaustion, Mia’s collapse—each one taught me that vulnerability isn’t the opposite of strength. It’s the heart of it.
Writing this book changed me. It made me realize how often we glorify resilience while overlooking the quiet courage it takes to say, “I need help.” It made me rethink how we define success in caregiving—not by how much we give, but by how well we sustain ourselves in the giving.
This story isn’t just for professionals. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt like they had to be everything for everyone. It’s a call to rewrite what strength looks like. And maybe, just maybe, give ourselves permission to be strong in softer, truer ways.