Tonight, I met my new roommate.
Bubbly as ever, she arrived at the door — but with no luggage. She pointed down the two flights of stairs and said her friends were waiting with her case.
“It’s too heavy. We will have to open it and put things in another bag.”
Pretending to myself that I don’t have a hurt hip, I squinted. “How heavy is it?”
“It’s probably 30kg.”
Not skipping a beat. “Let me grab some shoes.”
Before she could protest, I slipped on my boots and walked down the stairs in my boxers and frumpy, Smokey the Bear jumper. I found her two friends hovered over the large case. With little introduction, I snuck between them and grabbed the handle to ascertain just how heavy the luggage could possibly be.
As I lifted the case with little struggle, their eyes widened.
“I’ve got it,” I said, carrying it up the first few steps.
While joking about the super juice I must drink, my roommate grabbed for the other handle as I circled the bannister. I knew it was out of moral responsibility, not wishing me to strain myself over her bag. But, I really did have it. What she found overwhelmingly heavy, I found only mildly cumbersome.
Recently, or at least consciously, I’ve noticed a lot of talk around our metaphorical baggage — the things we carry in our lives, particularly when single. The debate circles around our task as human beings to heal alone before bringing a partner into our lives; to unpack our luggage.
Now, I’m all for personal growth and figuring out toxic patterns, of manufacturing blueprints for where you know cracks may occur, but healing isn’t a hardened destination. We evolve, we discover new pieces of ourselves, and we definitely have zero authority over the natural disasters that occur in our lives.
As someone with a chronic illness, I can only control my reactions to things that happen, not the things themselves. Medications fail or need to be switched, energy may plummet, my body may decide to misfire. I could never guarantee an unpacked bag.
Sometimes, that guilt sets in. Much like my roommate diving in to assist with her case, I feel the urge to do the same. I bring my representative forward at times, not even wanting the case to be seen because there are moments where hiding away feels less painful than being alone. It’s sabotage.
At the end of the day, it’s simple. The right people will have hands willing to help.
If you’re single, keep faith. Someday, someone will look at your luggage and think it’s not too much for them, and vice versa; that together, you can easily manage the weight.
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