Make Yourself Small

I sometimes wonder how Matt does it.

How he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and still stands so damn tall.

He’s the only living parent to four incredible teenagers, and he loves them with everything that he has.

And that’s just who he is. He doesn’t do much halfway.

Not his job, not relationships, nothing.

Somehow, no matter how much is on his plate, the man shows up with a steady, unwavering love.

He holds space for laughter.

He makes it look easy.

Crazier than that, he makes it look fun.

And when the world gets too heavy, I’ve never once seen him break.

I have seen him bend quite a bit, though.

I remember the first time I really noticed it—how heavy life gets for someone without a safety net. I watched the weight of his day press in early and never let up. The day just kept landing punches, one after the other. It was hard to watch, the kind of hard that sits heavy on your chest, making it impossible to take a full breath.

By late afternoon, Matt was quiet, moving through the world like a man carrying something far too big to put down. I could feel the tension building—not an angry pressure, but a pressure nonetheless.

Then, without ceremony or much conversation, he walked across the kitchen, grabbed his keys, and looked at me.

“You can stay or you can go,” he said gently. Not shutting me out, just letting me know—he had somewhere to be.

And then he left.

I followed.

Hopped in the passenger seat of his truck and rode in silence to the river, where Matt found a spot on a worn-out bench and sat down.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just watched as the colors stretched wide, as the water caught fire, as the day exhaled its last breath.

And when the light faded into darkness, Matt stood up, walked to his truck, drove home, and put himself to bed.

The sun rose the next day, and he started again.

The light had returned to his eyes.

Later, I asked him what changed.

What was different?

He paused for a moment, then said

“I think sometimes… it just helps to feel small.”

Matt has this way of distilling something profound into a single, quiet truth. No over-explaining. No philosophy. Just that.

It helps to feel small.

I understood.

And recently, I’ve started doing the same.

When the weight of navigating it all on my own feels like too much to hold, I grab my keys and go looking for something bigger than myself—something steady, something infinite.

Like tonight, when I found myself driving up my favorite little mountain, Monte Sano. Broke into some private property. (For legal purposes, this is a joke.)

Found a giant log. Made my own little bench.

And then I sat down.

I watched as nature shushed the world and its chaos into slumber, softening the sky with brushstrokes of gold and ember, violet and rose.

And let something bigger than me remind me—

My problems aren’t the whole universe.

I made myself small.

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Dear friends,

It means the world to me that you’re here. Sharing these pieces of my heart is my way of pushing past fear, step by step.

I’ll always keep my words open and accessible because I believe encouragement and love should never come with a paywall.

But if you choose to support my work financially, know that you’re not just keeping the lights on—you’re keeping my voice alive.

Thank you for showing up alongside me on this journey.

With love and gratitude,

Mary Katherine

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