Carry Your Own Gear

In our house, we have a saying: “Carry your own gear.”

It started as a rule when we went hiking, but over the years, it has become something of a family philosophy. And frankly, I think it applies to just about every aspect of life.

The concept is simple: Your stuff is your responsibility. Your choices, your decisions, your baggage. Don't expect someone else to carry the weight of the things you choose to bring along.

For me, it's about personal accountability and consideration for the people around me. I'm certainly not above asking for help when I need it. We all need help sometimes. But ultimately, this is my life, these are my choices, and it's my responsibility to handle my own business.

We started teaching this lesson when the kids were little.

You know how small children want to bring approximately 47 things with them every time they leave the house? They start out enthusiastically carrying their treasures, fully expecting that Mom or Dad will become the designated pack mule approximately seven minutes into the outing.

Not in our house.

"You can bring it, but Mommy isn't going to carry it for you. Do you still need it?"

At that point, I was already carrying snacks, water bottles, changes of clothes, and whatever other essentials were required to keep everyone alive and reasonably happy. I did not have room for 12 Legos, several Matchbox cars, two rocks and a Slinky.

Seriously. My bag was only so big.

The little guy was welcome to bring whatever he wanted, but he had to carry his own bag. If he didn't want to carry it, perhaps he didn't need it quite as much as he thought.

A simple lesson, really. But an important one.

My husband, for the most part, understands this philosophy, too.

He would never ask me to carry his wallet or keys in my purse. Mostly because he knows I'll say no. LOL. But he gets the bigger picture.

Now, don't get me wrong. He's not perfect. Neither am I.

The other day, we had a conversation that perfectly illustrated why carrying your own gear goes well beyond backpacks and car keys.

I was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, something I don't typically wear. I don't particularly love showing my arms, but the shirt is comfortable to sleep in, especially since I tend to get hot at night.

My husband mentioned that he liked the way it looked on me.

When I told him I wasn't especially comfortable wearing sleeveless shirts, he said, "Well, your arms look good now, so you can wear clothes like that."

I turned and looked at him.

I didn't say a word.

He knows that look.

"Not the right thing to say?" he asked. "You know what I meant."

And there it was. Another opportunity to carry someone else's gear.

I responded, "Is it my responsibility to analyze what you say, or is it your job to speak to me in a more purposeful way?"

He thought about it for a moment.

"You're right," he said. "You look nice. That's all I meant."

And that was that.

No argument. No hurt feelings that lingered for hours. No expectation that I should twist myself into knots trying to reinterpret what he said so he wouldn't have to take responsibility for how he said it.

He owned his words, clarified what he meant, and we moved on.

That's what carrying your own gear looks like in a relationship.

Now, some people might read this and think I sound harsh. Maybe even a little selfish.

I understand why.

But here's the thing: I've been the person who said yes to everything. I've carried other people's responsibilities, emotions, problems, and expectations. I've convinced myself that being helpful meant making everyone else's life easier, even when it made mine harder.

And you know what happened?

I got tired.

Not just physically tired, but emotionally exhausted. I allowed other people's choices and responsibilities to interfere with my own peace. Sometimes, I was so busy managing everyone else's business that I wasn't taking care of my own.

It took me a while to understand that being supportive and being responsible for someone else are two very different things.

I can love you without managing your life.

I can help you without taking over.

I can be there for you without carrying everything you choose to bring along.

In fact, I believe I'm a better mother, wife, partner and friend because I've learned the difference.

Motherhood is probably where this philosophy matters most to me.

My job as a mother isn't simply to raise children who are happy and comfortable. It's to raise healthy, capable, functioning men who contribute to society, take responsibility for themselves, and become thoughtful partners, friends and, perhaps someday, husbands and fathers.

That doesn't happen by accident.

We raise our children with purpose.

Of course, what carrying your own gear looks like changes as children grow.

When they're little, it means carrying their own bag of toys.

When they're older, it means keeping track of their belongings, remembering their responsibilities, managing their schoolwork and understanding that their decisions affect the people around them.

Our youngest is now in middle school, and the phrase has evolved a bit.

These days, it's more likely to be, "Handle your business."

Last night was a perfect example.

I'd had a long day at work. I'd made dinner, cleaned up, and finally reached that glorious moment when I could sit down and relax.

You know that moment. The one you've been looking forward to for approximately six hours.

And then, suddenly, seventh-grade math homework landed in my lap for review.

My son was upstairs while I sat downstairs trying to remember mathematical concepts I hadn't thought about in decades.

I mean, really. When did seventh-grade math get so complicated?

I wasn't upset that he needed help. I'm happy to help him. That's part of being his mother.

What I didn't love was that his poor time management had suddenly become my responsibility at the very end of a long day.

Later that evening, just before bed, he came to me and apologized.

He told me that time had gotten away from him and that he wouldn't keep doing that.

And you know what? That mattered to me.

Not because I expect perfection from him. He's a teenager. There will be forgotten assignments, poor planning, questionable decisions, and plenty of moments when his brain seems to have temporarily left the building.

We give him grace. He's learning.

But I appreciated that he recognized how his actions had affected someone else. He understood that his responsibility had become mine, not because I chose it, but because he hadn't planned ahead.

That kind of awareness is exactly what we're trying to teach him.

I don't want to raise a child who never needs help. That's unrealistic, and frankly, it would be a pretty lonely way to live.

I want to raise a young man who understands the difference between asking for help and expecting someone else to handle his responsibilities.

I want him to recognize that other people's time, energy and peace matter just as much as his own.

I want him to be the kind of partner who doesn't assume someone else will take care of the details. The kind of friend who takes responsibility when he makes a mistake. The kind of adult who knows how to apologize, make adjustments and do better the next time.

And I want him to offer that same grace to the people in his life.

Because carrying your own gear doesn't mean you have to do everything alone.

There will be times in life when someone's load is simply too heavy. When illness, grief, hardship, or circumstances beyond their control make it difficult to keep going.

That's when we step in. That's when we help carry the load, because loving people means showing up for them.

But there's a difference between helping someone through a difficult season and consistently carrying responsibilities they are perfectly capable of managing themselves.

One is love. The other can become a habit that serves neither person particularly well.

I learned that lesson in my marriage, in my friendships, and most importantly, in motherhood.

I want my children to grow into adults who understand that love isn't measured by how much someone is willing to do for you. Sometimes, love is teaching someone that they are capable of doing it themselves.

And sometimes, the most loving thing we can say is, "You've got this. I'll be right here if you need me."

It's a little lesson that started with Legos, Matchbox cars, rocks, and a Slinky.

But I hope it stays with my children long after they've left our home.

Because life will hand them plenty of things to carry.

And one of the greatest gifts I can give them is the confidence, accountability, and consideration to carry their own gear.