Elize About Faith

I have always considered myself an empath – naturally drawn to those who are struggling, burdened by depression, anxiety, or life’s hardships. From a young age, I made myself available as a shoulder to cry on, someone who could listen, support, and carry the weight of others. Looking back, I can see that I had an inherent need to be needed.

Throughout my teenage years and early twenties, the emotional weight I carried for others became overwhelming. By the age of 22, I was battling severe insomnia, relying on prescription sleeping pills just to rest. Anxiety and depression had taken hold, and my relationship with food had become unhealthy. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, weighed down by the problems I had absorbed from those around me.

At the time, I worked as a nail technician and beauty therapist, constantly listening to the stories and struggles of others. Outside of work, family and friends would also confide in me, unpacking their burdens into my already full hands. I had unknowingly become a vessel for everyone else’s pain.

Now, 20 years later, I reflect on that time and wonder: was I drawn to these situations because of my need to be needed, or was I simply placed there as a support for those who required it? Perhaps it was both. What I do know is that I reached a breaking point. I could not carry it any longer, and eventually, I left everything behind and moved to a new country.

When I arrived in London, I felt an emptiness unlike anything I had experienced before. I had spent so much of my life filling myself with the burdens of others that I had neglected my own growth and my own healing. I had to start again, relearning who I was and how to nurture my own life.

The first decade away from home was spiritually challenging. After that, for a time, I drifted away from Jesus as I tried to make sense of everything within me. But just as I was nearing a darker place, He found me and brought me back again.

That moment changed everything.

I began intentionally seeking Him, learning who He truly is and choosing to trust in His ways. Through that journey, I started to understand something I had never fully grasped before: I was never meant to carry what only He could bear.

More recently, I found myself slipping back into old patterns, absorbing the struggles and sins of those close to me. I prayed deeply for them, cried out to God on their behalf, and carried their pain in my heart. For over a year, I interceded, hoping and believing for transformation in their lives.

Then one day, God spoke clearly: “Let it go.”

I didn’t understand at first. How could I stop praying, stop carrying, stop fighting for them?

But over time, something profound was revealed to me.

I am only one person who has struggled under the weight of others’ burdens. Yet Jesus carried far more than I ever could. He bore the weight of humanity – past, present, and future – on the cross. And if I found even a fraction of that weight overwhelming, how much greater is His sacrifice?

This realization shifted my perspective entirely. It deepened my awe for what He has done and reminded me of a truth I had overlooked: some battles are not mine to fight.

Jesus calls us to deny ourselves daily, to take up our cross and follow Him:

“Then he said to them all: ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” Luke 9:23

Yet He also offers us rest, reminding us that we were never meant to carry life’s burdens alone:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28–30

This means that while we are called to love and support others, we are not called to carry what belongs to Him.

Now, I approach supporting others differently.

When I feel led to help someone, I first seek God’s guidance: ‘How do You want me to show up? Is it through prayer, through presence, or through wise counsel?’

I am learning not to be drawn into the weight, the chaos, or the emotional overwhelm of others. Instead, I trust that God will lead me in the way He wants to work, both in their lives and in mine. I no longer step in out of obligation, but out of obedience.

There is freedom in releasing what was never mine to carry.

And in that freedom, I am finally learning how to love and support others well without losing myself in the process.