My bags feel unbearably heavy today. Maybe it’s the rain that preempted my morning run. Maybe it’s a lack of sleep after slogging in from the airport at 1:30AM. Maybe it’s the rich comfort food (my mom’s meatballs and noodles recipe) I served for dinner in hopes of taking the chill off both my hands and my heart.
We all carry around some sort of baggage. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t. Most of the time, we do a pretty good job of checking it at the curb, to be stowed out of sight paving the way for us to move forward and get on with the business of earning a paycheck or tending to the transactions of daily life in the here and now. But sometimes it bursts out of its compartment flooding, unwanted, into open spaces, like when a teacher calls to report yet another instance of misbehavior from a child who should be quite over such inane capers. And suddenly you find yourself in tears in the middle of the work day. On the phone. With the teacher. And she’s young enough to be your daughter. Really? Yeah, really.
But today’s trigger appears to stem from a problem that’s bigger than you are. A problem you’ve seen before. Looking at the contents of the past strewn in front of you, their ephemeral qualities cloaked in a shroud fabricated with your fear, your blood runs cold. And you can’t help but imagine this new situation careening like a raft in rushing white waters into the old cesspool you’ve already lived in; the one you’re desperately seeking to pack away.
I bet if you look around you at any given place or time, there is at least one individual who has dealt with a personal challenge so incongruous with her professional or public persona it would shock you. And I’m talking about people you think you know fairly well. Someone you greet every morning at the coffee shop, office or school. An alcoholic husband, a teenager addicted to drugs, a floundering marriage, debilitating credit card debt, a bullied child, a cheating spouse, a pregnant daughter, an irresponsible ex, a home foreclosure: The list goes on. Our worries may differ, but we’re the same in that we all have them, and they can’t help but color our views on life. Yet we somehow feel like we need to walk around acting like everything is great, like we’ve truly put it all behind us, like we are the most together people on the planet.
This perplexes me partly because I do it myself. Maybe it’s about the desire to be first, to be the best, to be perfect. If we admit that our lives are blemished we might be rejected, deemed too broken for a shot at our dreams. Or it could be about a reluctance to ask for help. We should be able to carry the load all by ourselves, right? If we need help it could mean we’re less capable, or that we just have too much “stuff”. Everyone wants to hang with the person who travels lightly, right? It might be about the fear of being judged. If others see how we handle our baggage, we open ourselves up to criticism. This is particularly burdensome because we always feel less competent managing our pain than we do our pleasure.
When I take the time to mull over what’s inside my own valise it seems somewhat overwhelming. If this is me, what does everyone else have? I mean, I feel pretty average on the spectrum of human beings (although others may debate this ;-). And I bet you do, too. So if we’re all feeling like we’re fairly normal, yet we’re carrying so much around, then it leads me to believe there is an awful lot being stuffed into overhead bins every day. No wonder they seem to always run out of space on the plane.
I can’t begin to offer thoughts on how 21st century Americans might unburden themselves from the glut of accumulated personal baggage. Maybe talking about it is the answer, but I know few who are willing to ante up to this soulful game of strip poker. We’re long past the Little House on the Prairie days when Pa’s list of challenges was no more than one basic line item: Enough food to get through the long winter. The rules are different when survival is at stake.
So my ideas are around mitigating the damage. How can we at least lighten our own loads and help those around us to do the same? It might only shift the contents, but sometimes even a little redistribution helps us bear the burden more comfortably.
Recognize that we’re all carrying something fairly heavy. Most of us come into work, and into life, everyday trying to please someone, to be our best selves. Our bags can get in the way, shaking confidence or stealing our attention. Taking a second to consider that something might be buried beneath an uncharacteristic decision, missed deadline or the fact that the socks are still lying on the floor can move the next interaction from altercation to conversation.
Share a story once in a while that makes you human. You don’t need to expose your deepest, darkest secrets, but a challenge that displays a flaw you’re willing to admit can change the dynamic of any relationship. If you open up, it’s a good bet those around you will too. It really does feel better to talk to someone with an empathetic ear.
Along with rewarding greatness, reward striving for greatness. By this I don’t mean a prize for participating, but recognition for advancement in the right direction or for taking a risk on an innovation that fails. A student with poor grades doesn’t go to straight A’s overnight. And will he slip up sometimes? You bet. But that doesn’t negate all the progress that’s been made. This is really where it’s at anyway. If you wake up every day believing you can be great, you can’t help but get there.
Accept that your own bags will weigh you down occasionally, and momentarily cloud the way you perceive the world. They should. These are the heaviest of all because they belong to you.
Having baggage doesn’t mean you won’t get to where you want to go. It may; however, hold you in stagnant waters against your will for a while. We all have the power to find our way out, but changing perspectives and gaining the courage to move forward takes time. It was Helen Keller who said, “The best way out is always through.” Now there’s a woman with a little baggage.
Sometimes the zephyr a caring person puffs in your direction will break you free. My friend Kathy would say release might come from your inner voice in a dream or a vision. Or maybe some time for pause will cause you to move in a whole new direction.
There are those who slip it into slick, glossy designer satchels, some who stuff it into sturdy rucksacks, others who tuck it into hidden pockets sewn in their clothing, and a few who lay it all out there for the world to see. But anyway you look at it; none of us come without a few bags. Happiness is determined by how you decide to carry yours.
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