Once upon a time, noticing an air of heaviness around me, my twelve-year-old son said something deeply profound to me.
“Mom, stop carrying around other people’s backpacks full of cinderblocks.”
“Everyone has their own backpack of cinderblocks, their own painful feelings. Sometimes you carry other people’s for them.”
Huh. Valid point.
“What should I do with them?” I asked.
“Put them down at their feet,” the wise soul replied.
And so, I did.
Decades ago, when I made the decision about whether or not to have children, I chose to do it because I knew they’d have lessons to teach me. The two who came to me have been giving me lessons in spades. And I know 100% that I’m here in the world to use everything I learn to heal, in service to others, as I make a financial contribution to my family that matters.
Are you carrying around backpacks full of other people’s cinderblocks? Share about them in the comments section below.
Do you need help strategizing the communications that will enable you to put the backpacks down? Let’s talk.