The Strap Mark on My Shoulder

I wrote these lines one Thursday evening, after a week of seeing seven clients by motorbike with a laptop bag slung across my chest from morning till night. I am thirty-four, I sell office equipment, and that evening I stood in front of the bathroom mirror longer than usual.

Nine at night,
shirt off in the bathroom mirror.
On my right shoulder
a red line running slantwise,
exactly the width of the strap.

All day it sat there,
and I never remembered wearing it.
Only when I lifted it off
did I learn my shoulder had memorised
the shape of heavy.

Inside the bag:
a laptop, two folders of contracts,
a spare power bank
in case someone needs one,
no one has.

Warm water runs down my shoulder.
The red line fades,
slower than I hoped,
faster than I feared.

Tomorrow I might carry it again.
But tonight
the bag lies still
beside the bed,
and my shoulder is only a shoulder.

The next morning, Thu at the next desk glanced over at my collar, slightly crooked.

— Why is your shoulder so red?

— The bag strap.

— Get a different bag. Something lighter.

— I've changed it twice. Still the same red.

She laughed, I laughed, and neither of us said more. But all that morning I kept thinking: if the mark does not come from the bag, where does it come from? I think it comes from the words "just in case". The charger, the spare notebook, one more printed contract, the second bottle of water. Each one is light, but each one is me answering a question nobody has asked yet. The heaviness is not in the kilos in the bag. It is in the number of times I told myself: what if someone needs it.

Doing it right means that tomorrow evening the bag is lighter by one thing, only one. The first time, I felt faintly short of something, like leaving the house and wondering whether I locked the door. Some people feel their shoulders ease at once, and some feel nothing at all. After a week, what I noticed was usually not the mark disappearing but my knowing what was in the bag, and why. On a day too busy for the whole thing, do only the first two steps: put the bag down and stand still with it a moment.

The easy place to slip is trying to empty the whole bag in one go, to feel light for good. It sounds decisive, and it feels like doing something big. But the next day you will be missing exactly the thing you needed, and then conclude this does not suit you. One item an evening is enough. If you want a closer look at what you are carrying, there are seven questions to see what you're carrying, and another piece on tiredness that is not from lack of sleep.

When to seek professional support

This article is a short poem about what we carry every day. It cannot replace treatment, and I am not promising that taking one thing out of a bag will make your tiredness go away.

But here are a few signs you should bring to a professional, rather than carrying them alone:

• Tiredness that lasts for weeks despite rest, or aching or numbness in the shoulder and arm that does not ease: see a doctor to rule out physical causes
• Looking after everyone else taking up nearly all of your day, with no room for anything you enjoy for weeks
• Eating or sleeping clearly thrown off for several weeks
• You think about hurting yourself, even if it is just a passing thought

The last point cannot wait. Speak with someone you trust, today. The Emergency Support page explains what holds true in moments like that.

Seeing a professional does not mean you are weak. People see a dentist for a toothache all the time.