The Weight We Carry - And Why We Still Choose To Carry It
The Weight We Carry — And Why We Still Choose to Carry It
This morning, I was just another person in traffic — weaving between errands, mentally crossing things off my to-do list. But somewhere between work, the grocery store and the feed run, my thoughts drifted to something heavier: the quiet, unspoken exhaustion that lingers in the rescue world.
Recently, Berkley’s Place devoted an entire week to talking openly about mental fatigue in animal rescue. Their words were raw, honest, and deeply validating — a reminder that we are not alone in feeling this weight. And as I read them, I found myself hoping those messages resonated deeply with everyone who was also taking them in, because the truth they carried is the truth we live every single day.
Many of us in rescue have shared glimpses of our reality — the long hours, the heartaches, the moments that nearly break us. And while I believe people care, I sometimes wonder if the depth of this work’s toll is truly felt beyond our circle. Not in a way that sparks pity or guilt — but in a way that truly lands in the heart.
For me, this work happens in the margins of an already full life. I work a full-time and a part-time job. I run the rescue. I feed, train, and care for the horses. I keep the books, write grants, organize fundraisers, attend meetings, manage social media, and — when I can — try to be present for my family. I’m blessed with an incredible support team, but they too are carrying their own loads.
And still, the truth is… we’re tired. Bone-deep tired. Some days, I think about walking away. Closing the doors. Putting down the weight. Because lately, the hardest part hasn’t been the physical work — it’s been finding people to stand beside us.
We’ve always tried to avoid constant pleas for donations, choosing instead to pour our energy into a handful of large fundraisers each year. But even those are struggling now — fewer registrations, less engagement. I know times are tough for many, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. The questions creep in: Are we doing something wrong? Have we lost our spark? Has the world simply moved on?
And then there’s the one question that keeps me here, even on the hardest days: If we close… what happens to the animals?
That question pulls me back to my boots every morning. Because if we step away, that’s one less voice, one less safe place, one less community fighting for them. And I cannot turn my back on them. I will never turn my back on them.
So today, I’m asking — not with blame, but with hope. If you have ideas, if you have time, if you have even a sliver of energy to give… we need you. Our community needs to grow, to strengthen, to rise together. The animals need more than a few people carrying the load. They need all of us.
Because in the end, rescue isn’t just about saving animals. It’s about saving the part of humanity that chooses compassion over convenience, every single time.
