There’s no shame in wanting someone else to drive for a while. You’ve done enough steering.
This is for the ones who have always held the map. Who’ve been the planners, the protectors, the providers. The ones who never had the luxury of crumbling because everyone else needed them to be okay. Who kept the wheels turning, even when their hands were tired and their hearts were breaking.
If you’re tired, it makes sense. If you’re longing to rest, to be held, to be guided instead of always guiding—there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not weakness. It’s not failure. It’s the wisdom that comes from exhaustion. The kind that whispers, “Maybe I don’t have to do it all alone anymore.”
Sometimes we carry so much responsibility for so long that asking for help feels like giving up control. But the truth is, letting someone else drive doesn’t mean you’re disappearing. It just means you’re human. And your body, your heart, your spirit—they need space to breathe.
You’re allowed to lean. You’re allowed to rest your head on someone else’s shoulder. You’re allowed to say, “Can you hold this with me?” without thinking it makes you less. It actually makes you more—more whole, more honest, more connected.
Maybe for a while, survival demanded you be in charge. But healing allows you to let go a little. To trust. To receive. To let someone love you in the spaces where you used to only show strength.
You’ve done enough steering. Let someone take the wheel, even just for a bit. You’re still you—just softer now. And that softness is sacred.