The weight behind my eyes, like i'm carrying everyone else's worries and i am supposed to be the one to fix it or at least to care, but what happens when you just... don't? Like that cancelled thing was a gift and the relief is a punch to the gut because what kind of person am i, that i am actually happy that someone else is having a bad day because it means i don't have to show up for it, that i can sit here, in the quiet, and just... exist for myself for a minute? The rescuer fatigue is real, and the guilt afterwards is almost worse than the burnout itself. It took me years to realize my worth wasn't tied to being the crisis manager, and that saying 'no' was an act of self-preservation, not selfishness. Now, the quiet is a reward I actively protect.