The pebble in my backpack

I have this backpack I wear.

You can't see it, but it's always there. It holds these little pebbles... little things that I think and feel, but am not comfortable enough to share with someone else.

Sometimes the pebbles start to get heavier and heavier. Some, you would swear, are bricks, not pebbles. Perhaps even concrete building blocks. Some even feel like boulders.

I've been holding this one boulder in my backpack for over 10 years now. It started out tiny... just a hint of a thought, really. But as I gained self-realization, the pebble grew heavier. It became harder to carry alone, but too personal to share.

In time, I told a few close friends about my pebble. They'd help lift the backpack for me from time to time, but it was still my job to carry it - that tiny pebble that felt like a mountain on my back.

About a week ago, my husband told me something that he had been told, and along with it, added his 'interpretation' of the event. It stung, but his interpretation hurt more than the words he had been told. In thinking about it, I realized that his interpretation was most likely wrong and I felt more and more that I needed to tell him so. But in order to tell him, I had to open my backpack, and show him that massive rock I had been carrying around.

The fear at that thought was instantaneous. What would he think of that long-hidden pebble that had grown so large? Would he understand it, or reject it?

I plotted for a week, pulling together my thoughts on how to approach the subject. I gathered other instances that helped support and explain my points. I practiced on one of those close friends who knew about the pebble; friends who had watched it grow over the years and who understood what a load it was.

And I planned my timing carefully - I needed enough time to discuss this thoroughly. The 2 hour car dive on Sunday seemed the perfect opportunity.

In spite of the preparation, I was almost too afraid to open that zipper and take it out. I put my hand on the pull a few times, and took it off again without opening it. But as I tried to just hide the backpack under the seat, I knew it was important to stay strong.

I slowly opened the zipper, bringing up the topic that I knew would allow my lead-in. When the pull stuck a little, I took a deep breath, and tugged it on until it was entirely open.

And then I took out the boulder and showed it to him. I didn't point out all of it's bumps and ridges, but I let him get a good look at it. I described it just enough that he knew what it was like.

And then I realized something. He didn't ask many questions. He just took it at face value and moved on to other subjects. And the face value was that it really WAS just a pebble to him.

My backpack is a lot lighter today.