On inherited burdens, emotional entanglements, and the freedom of choosing what to lay down.
I once held onto a suitcase that wasn’t mine.
It was during a late-night bus journey to a remote hill town. In the rush and confusion of boarding, someone handed me a heavy brown bag. “Just keep this with you till we get there,” they said, vanishing into the crowd. Half-asleep and polite, I nodded.
For hours, I guarded it like it held treasure. It sat on my lap while my legs cramped. I shifted its weight when it got too much but never questioned why I had it.
By the time we reached the destination, the owner never came back. I was left with sore shoulders… and a bag full of clothes that weren’t mine.
It seems absurd now, but I often think about that moment—because we do this all the time.
We carry things we never chose.
We absorb the weight of unspoken expectations, generational guilt, someone else’s shame, a parent’s unresolved dream, a partner’s fears, a sibling’s silence. Sometimes, it’s cultural conditioning. Other times, it’s just emotional loyalty—“If I love them, I must carry this too.”
And before we know it, we are hunched under invisible weight—living out scripts we didn’t write, tending to wounds that aren’t ours, confusing empathy with emotional debt.
This is not about blame. It’s about clarity.
Where did this burden come from?
Who asked me to carry it?
Do I still want to hold it?
There is great tenderness in acknowledging that not everything we carry belongs to us. Some emotions are inherited, not chosen. Some battles we fight aren’t even ours. And some roles we step into were assigned, not aligned.
Letting go doesn’t mean abandonment. It means discernment.
It means learning to sit beside someone without picking up their suitcase.
It means recognizing where our responsibility ends and where our presence is enough.
And it means, gently and without guilt, placing down what was never ours to begin with.
So if you find yourself tired for no clear reason… ask gently:
What am I carrying today?
And what can I put down?
Because sometimes, the path to healing begins not with doing more—but with the quiet act of carrying less.
Letters for the Inner Journey by Pushkar
Whisper back, if the letter spoke to you.