The Year I Stopped Carrying What Was Never Mine
- Chelsea Wright
- Jan 13
- 4 min read
A gentle reflection on 2025, motherhood, friendship shifts, and choosing what actually belongs in 2026
There is something about the quiet days after the holidays that makes everything feel more honest.
The decorations are still up, the kids are still home, but the noise has softened. The pressure to perform is gone. The pretending stops. And you are left with yourself and everything you carried through the year.
2025 was not the year I thought it would be. It was heavier than I expected and softer than I imagined. It was full of love, but also full of letting go.
Becoming a mother didn’t just add a baby to my life. It rearranged everything.
It changed how I spend my time.
It changed how I protect my energy.
It changed what I tolerate.
It changed who I reach for when things get hard.
Some friendships grew quieter this year. Not because anyone did something terrible. Not because there was a big blowup. Just because motherhood makes you choose what actually fits inside your life.
And sometimes the hardest grief is not losing someone. It is realizing you no longer fit into the same room.
I spent a long time wondering what I did wrong. Why the texts slowed down. Why the invitations stopped coming. Why I was suddenly watching life happen on social media instead of being in it.
What I finally learned is this.
Sometimes people do not leave because you failed.
They leave because you stopped performing.
Motherhood strips you down to what is real. You stop showing up polished and available and endlessly accommodating. You start showing up tired, honest, protective, and deeply aware of what matters.
And not every relationship survives that shift.
That does not mean you are unlovable.
It means you are becoming honest.
This year also taught me something else.
I cannot carry everything.
I cannot carry everyone’s expectations.
I cannot carry every emotional temperature in the room.
I cannot carry guilt for needing rest.
I cannot carry the story that I have to earn my place by being small.
So as 2026 begins, I am choosing what stays.
I am carrying my daughter and the miracle that she is.
I am carrying my marriage and the quiet work of loving someone through real life.
I am carrying my health and the small daily choices that keep me steady.
I am carrying my faith even when it wavers.
I am carrying the work I am building because it matters to me.
What I am leaving behind is just as important.
The pressure to keep up.
The need to prove my worth.
The friendships that only survive when I disappear.
The guilt for needing space.
The belief that rest must be earned.
This is the year I choose alignment over approval.
This is the year I choose peace over performance.
This is the year I stop carrying what was never mine.
The thing I learned the hard way is that insight alone does not change your life.
You can know what you want to let go of.
You can know what matters.
You can even feel it deeply.
But when Monday morning comes and your baby is crying and your inbox is full and the laundry is staring at you, everything blurs again.
That is why I started using AI in a very different way than most people talk about.
Not to hustle harder.
Not to optimize productivity.
Not to become some superhuman version of myself.
I use it to think clearly when my brain is tired.
I use it to hold the mental load when I am carrying too much.
I use it as a place to pour out everything in my head and ask, what actually matters right now.
Here are a few of the prompts I use as a mom when life starts to feel heavy.
You can copy and paste these and use them exactly as written.
Help me reset for the week ahead as a working mom.
What actually needs my energy and what can I let go of so this week feels lighter.
Help me sort through everything I am worried about right now.
Tell me what is urgent, what is important, and what is just noise.
Help me see where I am carrying expectations that are not mine.
What am I allowed to release without failing.
Help me be present with my child today.
What are a few small ways I can connect without needing to be perfect.
Help me reflect on this season of my life.
What am I learning about myself as a mother and a woman.
These are not magic spells. They do not fix everything.
But they create something most moms are desperate for.
Space.
Space between what the world is demanding and what actually matters.
Space between guilt and clarity.
Space between noise and truth.
That space is where you get to breathe again.
That is what The Human Algorithm for Moms is really about.
Not using technology to become more.
Using it to become more you.
Calmer.
Clearer.
More grounded in what matters.
If you want more prompts like this, more reflections like this, and tools that support your real life instead of an idealized one, you can sign up for my newsletter below.
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are just carrying a lot.
And you are allowed to put some of it down.
🤍 Chelsea
The Human Algorithm for Moms
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