As a young and impressionable teenager, I was in awe of those older than me, walking about with their extremely trendy and colourful rucksacks.
They seemed to contain the promise of happiness, fun, laughter, sex, all the good stuff!
Why wouldn't I want one of them?
At sixteen, I gained my rucksack, special design, suited me, lightweight, enough to carry a small amount of fun times.
I won't lie, there were times even early on when it seemed too full, mainly at the weekends, so I removed it during the week to function properly at my studies.
At eighteen, I had a new 'official' rucksack. It allowed me fun times whenever I wanted. It stayed on a lot more than the previous one. A LOT more.
Shame. That was when shame first entered the rucksack. It was to remain in there, for the duration of the bag, lying hidden in a secret pocket, but able to be pulled out at the most inopportune moments.
Within the rucksack, there were other pockets too. Sadly, they could never be found again the next day. Someone would say to me, 'you remember that secret pocket from last night? The contents were hilarious! Do you remember it?'
The secret pockets were carefully hidden around the pocket containing shame. That was always readily available.
There were relationships during the time of the wearing of the rucksack. They didn't last long. I filled the rucksack with too many other things. Not fun things, but anxiety and a lack of self-worth had taken up space where fun used to be. Fun left the rucksack.
When you are carrying around a rucksack like that for many years, it's hard to pinpoint when you left the good stuff behind. So very gradually the empty voids from laughter and friendship are filled with fear and self-loathing.
Why didn't anyone tell me when I first wanted that rucksack at 16, that it wouldn't be the happy ending that I had conjured up in my mind?
I should have watched and learned from those I spotted in my timeline, those wearing, very tired, sickly-looking rucksacks.
What had changed?
Then one day, I saw a close friend. They had taken off their rucksack, and had been 'bag-free' for several months. The change in them was mind-blowing.
Taking off the rucksack had meant that they had the freedom, energy, enthusiasm to take on the world as we did before we were sixteen. The pre-rucksack years!
It was an inspiration, and very steadily, one step at a time, I took the rucksack off.
I was worried, as I had carried it around for so long, and maybe deep, under the shame pocket, maybe the fun was hiding still?
I soon realised that the fun had definitely escaped the rucksack, and without the burden of the bag, I was able to find it again. Along the way, I also found my energy, enthusiasm and clarity!
I told others about taking off the rucksack, but they didn't believe me, some even mocked me, or got angry with me for taking off my rucksack, why would they be mad about a good decision in my life?
Maybe they still had all the good things in theirs that I had lost? But it was hard to see in their bag, and they wouldn't let me search through it.
A few times some friends gave me a glimpse of their rucksack contents, even took it off for a brief time, but the years of dependency on it were strong and they put it back on.
I've put mine on again a few times, but each time I felt less comfortable. I saw the rips and tears, the dirt, my rucksack was coming to an end. It needed to go.
I threw my rucksack away on December 20th 2020. I don't need it's shame, and fear-filled contents anymore.
I'm back to being just me, standing on my own two feet and the rest of my life ahead to find the fun, happiness, success, clarity and love that I had lost, without the daily burden of the rucksack.
And she did live happily ever after.
