DAY 2 — Drop the Bag (Without Guilt)

Sorting was the easy part. The hard part is actually setting something down and not apologizing for the sound it makes when it hits the floor.

That’s the piece I’m still wrestling with. I’ve spent most of my life softening boundaries with guilt:
“Sorry, I just can’t take this on right now.”
“Sorry, I need some space.”
“Sorry, but your flaming dumpster is leaking into my living room.”

The word “sorry” turns every boundary into a customer service email. And I’m tired of feeling like unpaid tech support for other people’s chaos.

So here’s what I’m practicing right now: no apology required. Not when I’m putting down what isn’t mine. Not when I’m refusing to host someone else’s storm. It feels clumsy some days. It feels “mean” some days. But boundaries don’t actually break relationships—they clarify them.

What it looks like in real life:

• The One-Liner: “That sounds tough. I hope it works out.” (Translation: not my circus, not my monkeys.)
• The Redirect: “Have you talked to [actual responsible party] about that?”
• The Silent Drop: Don’t respond. Don’t react. Ghost responsibly. Silence is also a boundary.

Some days I get it right. Some days I don’t. But each time I manage to put down a bag that doesn’t belong to me, the weight on my shoulders is lighter.

And the people who actually love me? They adjust. The ones who only loved my free labor drift away.

Both outcomes are cleaner than carrying everyone’s junk forever.