The Thing We Carry That We Never Asked For
- Tim Leach
- Aug 5
- 5 min read

We all carry something.
That one thing we never put in our shopping basket, it just showed up. Uninvited. And now it lives in the attic of our psyche, rattling the floorboards every so often, reminding us it’s still up there.
For some people, it’s anxiety, a low hum that follows them through conversations, meetings, even sleep.
For others, it’s rage. Guilt. Compulsive thoughts.
Secret shame. Forbidden fantasies. Addictions no one suspects.
Or a quiet sadness that’s been there so long it’s almost become comforting.
We don’t choose these things.
They arrive.
Sometimes in childhood. Sometimes later.
Sometimes after trauma. Sometimes out of nowhere.
And like it or not, they become part of our story.
But here’s the real kicker: it’s not the thing itself that ruins us.
It’s the way we learn to hide it.
The Myth of the “Normal” Person
You know the one.
The perfectly curated, filtered, self-regulating grown-up.
The one with the tidy kitchen, calm tone of voice, and totally non-weird search history.
Let me tell you something I’ve learned from working with hundreds of clients, from CEOs to parents to teenagers and teachers:
That person does not exist.
I’ve sat with people who look like they’ve got it all together and heard them say things like:
“Sometimes I fantasise about disappearing. Not dying, just... leaving everything.”
“I haven’t felt joy in five years.”
“I love my kids, but I resent what motherhood did to my identity.”
“I cheat on my partner in my head every day.”
“I’m afraid that if I stop being busy, I’ll collapse.”
“I feel like I’m not real.”
“I can’t stop checking if the oven is off, even though I know it is.”
You wouldn't believe how many people, in some form, say that last one.
Rituals. Fears. Secret behaviours they can’t stop.
All hidden behind polite smiles and perfectly timed “I’m fine, thanks.”
We All Have That Thing
And what’s fascinating, and painful, is that most people believe their thing is worse than everyone else’s.
They come to me, palms sweaty, thinking, “This is the session where I’ll finally scare the therapist.”
But they never do.
Not because I’m unfazed, but because I’ve heard it before.
Maybe not the same content, but the same shape.
And the shape is always this:
“Something inside me doesn’t match the outside. I feel wrong for it. I want to be free of it, but I also kind of need it. And I hate that about myself.”
That’s the human condition, isn’t it?
We carry what we didn’t choose.
And then we blame ourselves for carrying it.
Shame: The Real Burden
Imagine for a second that you weren’t ashamed of your thing.
That you could look it in the face and say:
“Alright, I see you. You’re not all of me. You’re just something I carry.”
How different would that feel?
In many ways, that’s the work I do in my mindfulness and coaching sessions, not to remove the thing, but to help people sit beside it without fear. To acknowledge it without spiralling. To notice when it’s speaking, and learn when to take the mic back.
There was a woman I worked with once, a mother of three, on the PTA, makes the best banana bread you’ve ever tasted. But inside? She was drowning in compulsive thoughts. Not dangerous ones. Just repetitive, exhausting, nonsensical loops that made her feel like she was losing her mind.
It had gone on for years.
And all it took, truly, to change her life, was hearing that she wasn’t alone. That she wasn’t “crazy.” That this thing didn’t make her bad or broken. It made her human with wiring.
And that’s it.
We’re All Weird, Some of Us Are Just Honest About It
Let’s drop the myth of normal, shall we?
Because once you do, you start to realise how much energy you've spent performing.
And maybe, just maybe, you can start to explore what’s underneath that performance.
For some of my clients, that exploration has led to unexpected freedom.
There was a man who’d been secretly terrified his whole life of becoming like his father. And because of that, he never let himself fully feel his anger, which, of course, meant it leaked out sideways: sarcasm, passive-aggression, self-sabotage.
When we finally got to the core of it, he cried like he hadn’t since he was a child. He admitted he didn’t even know who he was anymore, just who he was trying not to be.
But in that moment of rawness, he finally started to meet himself.
Not the version shaped by fear.
Not the role he played to stay safe.
Just him.
And from there? He rebuilt.
He’s now more present with his kids, more honest in his marriage, and far less afraid of his own inner storms.
The Inner Closet (and the Door We Keep Locked)
You know that mental door?
The one you avoid opening, because behind it is a version of you that you don’t quite understand?
That version might be:
The people-pleaser who never says no
The perfectionist who spirals after one mistake
The emotional eater
The fantasiser
The spiritual sceptic
The addict
The inner child still scared of being left alone
The one who wants to rebel, but never has
We all have one.
And for a while, it makes sense to keep that door shut.
Sometimes we need that layer of denial to survive.
But eventually, there comes a moment, often after a breakdown, a breakup, a burnout, or a breakthrough, when something in you whispers:
“You don’t have to be afraid of this part of you anymore.”
That’s not permission to indulge in every desire.
It’s permission to stop pretending it’s not there.
From Mindfulness to Integration
Mindfulness is not about becoming a blank slate.
It’s about becoming the observer of your mind rather than being dominated by it.
You can say:
“That thought is here. That urge is here. That sadness is here. But I don’t have to act on it. I can sit beside it. I can breathe. I can let it move through without letting it take over.”
This is what makes mindfulness so powerful, especially when applied with intention, humour, and compassion.
It’s how we stop being owned by the thing we carry.
And start being the ones who choose how to hold it.
So What Now?
If you’ve read this far, it probably means you’ve got something.
Some old shadow. Some unspoken habit. Some emotion that clings to the edges of your life like ivy.
Good.
Not because you have it.
But because you're brave enough to see it.
You’ve already done more than most people ever will.
You’ve stopped running.
The Invitation
Here’s what I want you to take from all this:
You are not your urges.
You are not your past.
You are not the worst thing you’ve thought or the weirdest thing you’ve felt.
You’re just a human being learning to make peace with your wiring.
If your “thing” feels too big, too odd, too heavy, remember this:
You didn’t choose it.
But you do get to choose how you respond to it now.
And that response, moment by moment, breath by breath, is where your power lives.
So maybe today, instead of fighting it…
Instead of burying it…
You can just say:
“Okay. You’re part of me. But you don’t get to drive the bus anymore.”
And then go on living your beautiful, messy, honest life, with a little more self-compassion than yesterday.
I am also always here to help so if there is something that you've been carrying for your whole life and just don't know how to deal with it anymore, click here, book a call and lets battle it together, because it's not as bad as you think! (and I assure you, you're not the only one).
You’ve got this.
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