Vachon Imagined

When people drain you, what they are often doing—whether they realize it or not—is bringing a part of your consciousness into heightened awareness and asking you to hold it, to make peace with it, to love it in some form.

Humans are not always skilled at this.

I speak from experience. When I lost my job, I was alone in a way I hadn’t been before. My husband had his own thriving career. My son had his own life, filled with laughter and the energy of being a kid. I was trying to survive inside my own mind.

I wore the role of mother when I needed to—present, loving, steady—while also working through sadness and depression so that my son would not carry its weight. It was a difficult season in my life.

There were moments when I had thoughts of suicide. And because that frightened me, I asked for help. I reached outward with what I knew I had internally and asked someone to intervene. I began medication. I did what I needed to do because my mind was overwhelming my body, and my body needed relief in order to continue.

Years later, I came off medication because I was in a different season of life, a different state of mind. But that period taught me something I still carry.

We are shaped by what we take in—by what we consume mentally and emotionally. We are formed by the people we are around, the conversations we enter, the music we listen to, the environments we live inside. We carry these influences within us.

But awareness, when it is steady and grounded, does something different. It does not accumulate in the same way. It meets experience and lets it pass. It does not need to hold everything it encounters as identity.

Living from that place changes how suffering is processed. It changes how overwhelm is met. It is not denial, and it is not escape. It is a different kind of attention—one that does not turn every experience into weight that must be carried indefinitely.

So when you are feeling heavy, discern.

Discern what you can be around and what you cannot. Discern what strengthens your mind and what overwhelms it. Discern what you are capable of holding in that moment, and what is asking too much of you right now.

This is not avoidance. It is clarity.

And whatever you choose from that place of discernment is not only for your benefit, but for everyone involved. Because when a person is overwhelmed, they do not just experience life—they amplify it. But when a person is steady, even in small ways, they meet life without distortion.

In that sense, choosing wisely what you move toward is not selfish. It is a form of respect—for your own capacity, and for the integrity of the moment itself.

And in that steadiness, something quieter becomes available. A kind of intelligence that does not distort experience in order to survive it.

It is not separate from life. It is what meets life directly.