Is This Something I Can Influence, or Something I’m Simply Carrying?
Inspired by a thoughtful question from one of my readers
By J. H. Irwin
Author | Storyteller | Capturing Life, Memory, and Meaning
One of the greatest gifts writing has given me has been the conversations that happen after I publish.
Sometimes a reader shares a personal story. Sometimes they offer a different perspective. Occasionally, someone asks a question or makes a statement that lingers in my mind long after I’ve finished reading it.
Recently, a reader responded to one of my articles about living in a heightened state of awareness so many of us develop after years of anxiety, trauma, rejection, or simply navigating a world that often feels unpredictable. They asked a simple question:
“Any tips on returning to a place of peace and presence in the moment?”
It was one of those questions that seems straightforward until you realize it deserves more than a quick reply.
As I reflected on my own life, I realized that I don’t find peace by pretending the world’s problems don’t exist. I don’t disconnect because I suddenly stop caring. In fact, I probably care too much. I care about people. I care about cruelty. I care about injustice. I care about the direction of our society and the struggles so many people quietly carry every day.
For years, I believed that constantly thinking about these things somehow made me a more engaged or compassionate person. What I eventually discovered was that there is a difference between caring and carrying.
Caring keeps our humanity alive.
Carrying everything eventually crushes it.
Every day we are invited into an endless stream of outrage, political conflict, breaking news, social media arguments, and opinions stacked upon opinions. We are surrounded by voices telling us what deserves our attention next. Before long, our minds become crowded with problems we cannot solve, conversations we cannot change, and fears about outcomes we cannot control.
It is remarkably easy to mistake constant engagement for meaningful action.
The truth is that most of us are one voice among millions. We post. We comment. We argue. We worry. We replay conversations in our minds. Yet if we are honest with ourselves, very little of that changes the outcome. Hours of emotional investment often produce nothing but exhaustion.
That realization is not an invitation to become indifferent. It is an invitation to become intentional.
Now, whenever I feel myself sliding into that familiar rabbit hole, I ask a single question:
Is this something I can influence, or is it simply something I am carrying?
That question has changed my life more than I ever expected.
If it is something I can influence, I ask what action I can realistically take. Maybe I can encourage someone. Maybe I can volunteer. Maybe I can write an article that helps one person feel seen. Maybe I can call a friend who needs encouragement. Those are things within my reach, and taking action replaces helplessness with purpose.
If it is something I cannot influence, I remind myself that carrying it every waking moment serves neither the world nor my own well-being. The problem does not become smaller because I worry longer. My constant anxiety is not a form of activism. My peace does not have to be sacrificed as proof that I care.
That realization has given me permission to return my attention to the life unfolding directly in front of me.
I notice Riley making me laugh over something only a dog could find fascinating. I enjoy a quiet evening with Tray. I appreciate a conversation with a friend, a walk outside, a beautiful sunset, or the satisfaction of finishing a piece of writing that came from the heart. None of these moments erase the world’s problems, but they remind me why the world is worth caring about in the first place.
There is something profoundly healing about shrinking our focus from the entire world to the small circle where our lives actually touch other people. We often underestimate how much influence exists inside that circle. A kind word. A thoughtful gesture. A patient conversation. A handwritten note. These things rarely make headlines, but they quietly shape lives every single day.
Perhaps that is where our greatest influence has always been.
We cannot carry every conflict, every injustice, every frightening headline, or every uncertainty about tomorrow. Human beings simply were not built for that kind of emotional load. We are, however, remarkably capable of bringing kindness into the spaces we actually occupy.
That is enough.
Not because the larger problems are unimportant, but because preserving our own peace allows us to continue showing up for others with compassion instead of exhaustion.
The reader who asked that question probably expected a brief answer. Instead, they reminded me of something I needed to hear myself.
Whenever the noise becomes overwhelming, whenever the world’s problems begin to consume your thoughts, pause for just a moment and ask yourself:
Is this something I can influence, or is it simply something I am carrying?
You may discover, as I have, that peace is not found by caring less about the world.
It is found by carrying only what was ever ours to carry.
Words can still move the world. Read mine → https://substack.com/@jhirwin