When I was a kid, I wasn’t sure if the phrase was “bares the burden” or “buries the burden.” Both made perfect sense and no sense whatsoever to me. Once I grammatically understood it was “baring”, I emotionally found that I should have been concentrating on the “burying” of burdens. Plural. Given enough time, I’ll create a stack of burdens that I carry around on my back like a band of disabled howler monkeys.
“Because they’ll start howling,” was my response to the most often-asked question.
“But they’re howling already,” was theirs.
Step 3: made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.
Going through life looking for congratulations on things I can claim martyrdom over is one lonely existence. First off, nobody gives a shit. Seriously, nobody cares if you’re hurting yourself metaphorically. These burdens of mine are nothing more than hollowed-out complaints stuffed with pride. Everyone knows it’s all easily fixable, only I apparently don’t want them fixed. Which is fine by everyone else as well, as long as I keep it to myself. Otherwise, it just comes off as annoying and needy.
I think what’s so off-putting about all of this is the backwards way I go about looking for approval. Some might call it asking for reassurance, but in most cases my decision and behavior has long-ago been decided, and now I’m simply looking for ego-stroking justification. And if I don’t get it, resentments follow. Another burden.
Thankfully, there is a solution.
Today: Treat life like it’s a college bookstore: leave your bag at the door before entering.