The Weight of the Backpack

I wanted to relate a realistic story about Jamal. he was the strong silent type, yet he carried a large burden with him. 

We conducted an exercise and wanted to tell you how our intervention went

Jamal always walked with a heavy backpack. At least, that’s how it felt. Not the one on his shoulders, but the invisible one he carried in his chest.

Inside were memories he didn’t ask for: nights filled with fear, sudden noises that made his body jump, and thoughts that replayed like a movie he never wanted to watch. PTSD was like that—an unseen backpack, filled with bricks that made every step harder.

For a long time, Jamal thought he had to carry it alone. He didn’t want to burden his family. He didn’t want people to think he was weak. So he stayed quiet, dragging the weight with him everywhere.

But one evening at Mandie Safe Haven, he sat in a circle of others. Some had backpacks like his—different shapes, different stories, but the same heaviness. They began to talk. Slowly at first, then more freely. One person said, “Every time I share, it’s like I take out one brick.” Another added, “When we listen to each other, we help carry the load.”

Jamal didn’t speak that night. But he listened. And something shifted. For the first time, his backpack didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The next week, he tried. His voice shook, but he told a little of his story. The circle listened—really listened. No judgment, no rush to fix him. Just understanding. And when he finished, he realized he could breathe easier.

Healing didn’t happen overnight. The backpack didn’t vanish. But week by week, story by story, he learned he wasn’t carrying it alone. He discovered tools—breathing exercises, journaling, quiet walks—that took out more bricks. And with every shared laugh, every nod of recognition, he grew stronger.

One day, Jamal looked around the circle and noticed something beautiful: none of them had empty backpacks. But none of them were dragging them alone anymore.

Message for the Community

PTSD doesn’t disappear in an instant. But when we talk, when we listen, when we stand together, the load becomes lighter. Healing isn’t about erasing the past—it’s about finding strength in the present, together.

At Mandie Safe Haven, no one carries their backpack alone.

Companion Reflections for The Weight of the Backpack

1. Breathing Exercise: “Lightening the Load”

• Close your eyes and sit comfortably.

• Place one hand on your chest, the other on your stomach.

• Imagine the “backpack” you carry. As you inhale deeply, picture yourself pulling fresh air into the heavy bag, softening the weight.

• As you exhale slowly, imagine one brick sliding out and falling away.

• Repeat this for five breaths. Notice if your body feels lighter or calmer.

2. Journaling Prompt: “What’s in My Backpack?”

• Write down what feels heavy for you right now—thoughts, memories, worries, or fears.

• Next, write one thing that helps you feel lighter (a walk, music, prayer, a trusted friend).

• End with this sentence: “Even though my backpack feels heavy, I know I don’t carry it alone.”

3. Group Circle Question: “One Brick I Can Name”

• Invite each person in the circle to share one ‘brick’ from their backpack. It can be a word, a feeling, or even just a symbol (like “fear,” “loneliness,” or “a storm”).

• After sharing, the group responds in unison: “You don’t carry that alone.”

• This builds connection and reminds everyone that the circle is a place where burdens are shared, not hidden.

4. Optional Creative Activity: “Draw the Backpack”

• Provide paper and colored pencils.

• Ask participants to draw their invisible backpack: What does it look like? How heavy is it?

• Then, add symbols or colors that represent tools or people who help lighten it.

• Share (if comfortable) with the group.

🌱 Closing Thought: Healing begins with small steps. Every brick named, every breath taken, every story shared lightens the load—for ourselves and for one another.

We hope you can implement these tools with friends, family, support groups...even tell your therapist what you learned.

Prayers,

Mandie & Curtis