Here I am again. This certainly is not the first time my luggage has exceeded the weight limit. Once again, I’ve failed to pack lightly and, once again, I’m disappointed and distraught. I try to think of items I can remove from my suitcase to bring the number on the scale down but, as usual, I come up with nothing. To no avail, I try to convince my travel-companions that the excess 12.7 pounds is entirely the fault of my very-weighty running sneakers. “Air Max” sneakers, hence the name, definitely do not account for the bulk. I’m not fooling anyone around me. I can’t bring this heavy bag onto the plane, at least not without paying a sizable fee. Wholly at the mercy of the TSA agent, I hope that she’ll pity me and count my case as an exception to the rule. Her look of utter disgust as she assesses my over-stuffed bag, however, is more than slightly discouraging. There is no way around it: I have too much baggage.
As we board planes, trains, and automobiles to leave campus for spring break, we pack all sorts of bags to head home. For many of us, our heaviest baggage is not the stuff we pack to bring home but the feelings, experiences, and secrets we carry with us always. At Bowdoin we’re expected to be constantly concerned only with the here and now, but it is hard to ignore the there and now, here and then, and there and then. When everyone seems so preoccupied with parties, homework, sports, and other campus activities, it is easy to feel like there is no room for anything personal inside the Bowdoin bubble. Entering Bowdoin, we go through a screening process much like airport customs. We declare our items (non-Bowdoin-grown goods/issues) and, when these are dismissed as nonthreatening, we are allowed into the community.
Recently, I have been very aware of the pressure to be baggage-free at Bowdoin. My brother has been in the hospital for the last week. I have tried hard to carry on—as we are expected to here—and keep emotions to myself. Working to maintain my smiley exterior, my cheerful interactions with professors, classmates, and friends have been about as believable as a 12.7pound pair of sneakers. I didn’t want people to see that I was upset because I was afraid they would ask questions. It’s a small school; inevitably, people did ask questions and I answered. I explained something I have kept largely to myself while at Bowdoin. My brother is in the hospital because he is very sick with a terminal illness called Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. My brother, Tommy, is my best friend and the knowledge that I will lose him one day terrifies me. Still, at Bowdoin, I don’t want to be vulnerable or pitiable; I want to be fun, independent, and strong. I want to be (and be seen as) baggage-free so usually I pretend to be. During weeks like this, however, I’m given a big fat reality check. It’s an awful disease, but Muscular Dystrophy is a very important part of my life. My brother is an incredible person and, although he is physically weak, he is the strongest person I know. Being baggage-free is impossible and, whether I like it or not, baggage-free just isn’t me.
Life happens within and beyond the Bowdoin bubble and it’s okay to ask for help no matter where your troubles are located. When things go wrong at home (or anywhere else) there are people you can call on at Bowdoin. We all have baggage and that’s okay. Ask for help when you need it and encourage friends to do the same. You might be surprised to find out how much baggage the people around you are carrying. Ask others for a hand with your bags and offer a hand to others. Even though it might feel like a burden sometimes, it’s the heavy stuff that keeps us grounded.