Carrying a Load

We are all beasts of burden.

Hello lovely readers! How are you today? Whenever I’m trying to channel extra compassion for someone or a situation, I try to keep in mind that everyone is carrying a load, no matter the mask they wear. The world feels especially heavy right now, a burden on our collective shoulders, and so this week’s newsletter explores the word load and ways I’ve found to help lighten it. As always, thank you for being here!

LOAD: the quantity that can be carried at one time by a specified means. A mass or weight supported by something. Something that weighs down the mind or spirits. A burdensome or laborious responsibility. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

“It’s so tiring trying to hold myself up,” my mom remarked. We were watching my daughter Ava’s last tennis clinic session, and she was seated on a backless bench (selfishly, I took the chair with a back in hopes of staving off low back pain). She said she’s been working on her posture in tandem with PT exercises to rehab her upper back/shoulder blade area; and it is work. In the days prior, she also shared with me a few times that her heart is heavy with the war that’s unfolding right now, worried that she hadn’t heard back from her Arabic teacher in Beirut. “I don’t know how to hold it,” she said. No wonder then, that it was hard for her to carry herself tall, with the weight of the world bearing down on her.

While I was navigating early motherhood, I became familiar with the term “invisible labor,” used to describe the unseen mental and emotional load that goes into managing a household, keeping on top of schedules, meal planning, and anticipating needs. It’s also the mental gymnastics and emotional investment required to execute the smooth running of day to day life, which often leads to overwhelm and burnout. The social media account Momwell does an excellent job depicting how this plays out in various areas of life (see below on feeding the household). It’s something that still weighs heavy on me; even if my husband does help, most of the load is on me, compounded by my own work schedule (and the constant battle to find balance therein), running a business, and carving out time to work on my memoir.

The etymology of the word load is “that which is laid upon a person or beast, burden,” c. 1200 (Source: Online Etymology Dictionary). What can we do to ease the burden, even if we can’t set the full load aside or change the circumstances that define the backdrop against which our lives are playing out?

I love the phrase “take a load off (one’s) feet” meaning to “sit down, relax” from 1914 American English (Source: Online Etymology Dictionary). Rest is integral to supporting ourselves during times of unrest. If we are depleted, we cannot serve ourselves, let alone our families, partners, or communities. For me, taking a load off takes the form of pressing pause on scrolling my mental to-do list and thinking three steps ahead. So I take a book to the rocking chairs on the porch or post up on the couch with a heating pad on my lower back, and this act alone uncoils some of the tension in my shoulders. I’ve picked up my coloring book again, and downloaded a coloring app that my daughter loves. There’s something soothing about the act of coloring, seeing color bloom across the page. I make myself a simple lunch, toasts with smashed avocado and soft boiled eggs drizzled with chili crunch, or topped with tuna mixed with Dijon mustard and Duke’s mayo, lots of freshly ground black pepper, and bread and butter pickles.

Yesterday, taking a load off meant not rushing to my desk to work on my memoir, but taking a mental reset to clear the frazzle dazzle energy of a frenetic morning and day ahead. I went for a walk, latte in hand, and walked through my neighborhood—a simple seeming choice that gave me time and headspace to count my blessings. It warmed my soul to feel the spring morning air on my skin, to feel a surge of gratitude in my heart for the fresh air I was breathing in, to experience the purposefulness of putting one foot in front of the other. I tuned into the soundtrack of birds singing, pausing to think how lucky I was to listen to these cheerful sounding tweets and warbles. How different the atmosphere must feel, look, and sound like in cities ravaged by war.

Last night, we sat together as a family on the porch, watching and listening to a thunderstorm roll in, then witnessing a rainbow growing brighter in the sky moment by moment. Focusing on the good, counting our blessings, and carving out and holding onto moments of joy helps to ease the burden a little, maybe even enough to stand up a little straighter.