The Weight of Watching

Some warnings are quiet. Some lessons are heavy. Some we survive anyway.

The weight of watching is heavy, but God carries what I cannot. Sk

The Weight of Watching

Sometimes I feel like I’m living in Groundhog Day with Bill Murray – only there’s nothing funny about my version. It’s moving, packing, staying put, but still kind of moving anyway. Job changes. Life shifts. Unstable ground. The cycle is exhausting for all of us.

My husband said it best, “I’m having trust problems with everyone.” And honestly, I feel it too. He comes from a world where your word is your bond, but people just aren’t built that way anymore. As for me, trust has never come easy. Somewhere very early in life, I learned that most people don’t always have good intentions when it comes to me. It’s a sad thing to admit, but in my case, it has often proved true. Still, I love people deeply. Some of my closest friends are more like family than some of my actual family. But the circle is small, carefully chosen, and hard-earned – so when something cracks that trust, it cuts somewhere deep.

I’d say I’m observant – maybe overly so. Sometimes it’s the environment, the tone, the energy, something I can’t quite explain, I just notice when something is off. The problem is, I don’t always understand the weight of what I’m sensing until a little too late. Other times, I doubt myself. I’m not always confident in my instincts, or in my ability to put them into words in a way that others will understand. Because it’s never just a feeling – it’s louder, sharper, deeper than that. The warning signs flare up somewhere beneath the surface, but I don’t always move fast enough to stop the fallout.

Part of me wants to believe I’m wrong. I want to hope this time it’ll be better than I know it will be. No one wants to be the negative one. I’ve been told more times than I can count, “Don’t put that out into the universe,” or “Why do you always have to be negative?” So sometimes I get quiet, and then people wonder why I have nothing to say. I simply can’t explain what I know without sounding like I’m reaching for proof I don’t have. I just know the person, or the situation, isn’t safe.

Other times, I see the storm clearly but saying something means a bigger battle with the very people I’m trying to protect – and conflict is never the point. So, I hold it in. I wait. And then the collapse comes, and the knowing I carried quietly becomes the price we all pay. Welcome to the cycle I live in.

The worst kind of pain is not being blindsided – it’s seeing it coming. Feeling God warn you, feeling your spirit hit the brakes, trying to say something without the right words, holding the weight of the knowing alone… and still living through the impact.

Jeremiah 17:7-8
Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.

SK-

Woven in the Fabric

There is a voice quieter than doubt and stronger than fear – the whisper of God guiding long before the storm breaks.
My hope is that my stories point you back to Jesus, help you trust His voice, and step confidently when He nudges your spirit.

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There is more unfolding, more faith being shaped, and more of God saving and showing Himself true.

Jesus is in every thread.
I’m just writing what He weaves.

Skelly