Throughout the years, I have realized that being me carries weight. Even when no one asks me to carry it, I feel like I should.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown tired of carrying that weight. I’ve made peace with that. But I’ve also realized that feeling tired doesn’t mean I’ve become less capable. It simply means I’ve reached a stage where my definition of leadership is changing.
When I was younger, leadership meant being the one in front, taking every hill. As I’ve gotten older, it has become choosing which hills are actually worth climbing, teaching someone else how to climb, or simply creating a life that the people I love want to emulate.
There’s a line from The Lord of the Rings that comes to my mind from time to time. It’s not about kings or battles. It’s much quieter.
“I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.”
I’ve always liked it because it doesn’t pretend that strength means never feeling weary.
I can be proud of where I came from, proud of being Kurdish, proud of what I’ve built, and still admit, I’m tired.
Those things don’t contradict each other.
Sometimes, when I feel really old and tired, I wonder if what I’m actually feeling is that I’m done proving myself.
Those aren’t the same.
There’s a difference between losing your fire and deciding you no longer need to burn it for everyone else.
Maybe The Kurd doesn’t need to challenge every newcomer anymore. Maybe he sits by the fire, tells the stories, laughs louder, picks his moments, and when something truly matters, everyone still gets quiet because they know exactly who just stood up.
That’s a different kind of strength.
I don’t believe I’ve reached the point where my strength is fading.
I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m asking a different question.
Not Can I win this battle?
But Does this battle still deserve me?