Emotional Backpacks
Every Friday I have a standing writing date with my friend Char. Before we write, we spend a few minutes catching up and discussing possible writing topics. This morning part of our discussion of family and prior writing topics illustrated the common characteristic shared by all; the experiences from our past that influence our interactions in the present. We discussed several different scenarios we’d witnessed lately where it was undeniable that each person’s past had impacted who they are today and how they interact with the people around them. Char in her wisdom, “Anger is a choice. [Person A] had a hard childhood and has chosen to be angry. [Person B] had a hard childhood also, but decided to overcome it with continued hard work and therapy.”
Even those without large childhood traumas have experienced pain. Char said she likes to picture everyone as having backpacks and that its easy in casual friendships to choose to take out an item from your backpack here and there to share, or not, but that it’s much more difficult when you’re trying to get through daily life with a partner, or interact with others in a large group setting where everyone else has their own backpack. This metaphor for emotional baggage really hit home with me. “Some people don’t even know they have them.”
An even more complicated layer to contemplate is how our own backpacks impact our ability to honor the contents that someone else is carrying. As a person who has felt the responsibility of keeping the peace in relationships since childhood, these backpacks make relationships feel daunting, especially new ones. To picture everyone with a backpack means that my own backpack is at risk of becoming heavier. This often causes me to retreat. I don’t want to have to be in a position of having to take care of everyone else.
With the people I love, it’s worth it – holding some items for a while or propping them up for a bit to lighten the load. I look at Char and see how caring, warm, and accepting she is with everyone. She interacts with others in a way that honors their backpacks. I always thought I didn’t want to venture out in new friendships because I was afraid of being rejected and that the feeling of not being good enough caused me to be insecure. I have just had a realization that part of the reason I don’t venture out in new friendships is also because of the emotional vulnerability that comes with knowing someone else’s pain and not wanting their wounds to become my responsibility.
How do you get to know someone – all the good, bad, happy, sad – without making their problems your problems? Add to this the complexity of each human’s psyche and the inability to fully know and understand a single person, then multiply that by 7 billion people. It’s daunting.
So I suppose I have some new self-work to do. I’m not sure where to start. Perhaps reflecting on past interactions where others have shared painful moments of their past and I have merely listened, maybe pulled out an article of my own, and then we’ve each zipped them back up and moved on down the path with a better understanding of the other.
Maybe envisioning these backpacks will help me to have more grace for others. The people who I know well or not at all who I find frustrating. Maybe I can acknowledge the load they carry without making it my own. At the very least, I can continue to take ownership of my own backpack and ensure its weight doesn’t cause me to act in ways that hurts others.
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