Whose Stuff Is This?!
Learning what’s not yours — and the joy of handing it back.
One of the great delights of therapy — right up there with surviving the silence after you say something incredibly vulnerable — is this:
The moment you realise
“Hang on… this isn’t mine.”
It might be a guilt you’ve carried since childhood.
A crushing sense of responsibility for everyone’s feelings.
A belief that you’re too much, or not enough, or permanently defective in some vaguely moral way.
Or just a general vibe of “If something goes wrong, it’s probably my fault.”
And then one day — maybe in therapy, maybe in the shower, maybe mid-argument with your toaster — a light goes on.
Wait a minute. This... smells like someone else’s emotional laundry.
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A short list of things you might be lugging around that aren’t yours:
Your mum’s anxiety
Your dad’s inability to express affection without sarcasm
Your ex’s opinion that you’re “too sensitive”
That one teacher in Year 8 who said you'd never amount to much
Society’s entire message to women / men / neurodivergent people / anyone with feelings
A family rule that no one ever actually said out loud, but everyone still obeys (e.g., “We do not talk about things.”)
These things?
Not yours.
And guess what?
You’re allowed to hand them back.
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There’s no ceremony for it — but there should be.
Honestly, it deserves trumpets.
A velvet cloak.
A big sparkly sash that says, “Congratulations! You’ve successfully returned someone else’s emotional baggage to sender!”
Instead, it usually looks more like this:
> “Oh… I don’t think that belief is actually mine.”
awkward pause
“Right. Well. That’s… weirdly disappointing and also amazing?”
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You don’t have to be the emotional lost property office.
You are not required to carry shame, guilt, blame, responsibility, or weird inherited rules that don’t fit you anymore — just because someone else couldn’t or wouldn’t hold them.
You are allowed to say,
> “Thank you, but no.”
“That’s not actually mine.”
“I think this belongs to someone else.”
You’re allowed to metaphorically (or literally, if you’re feeling theatrical) lift that shame off your shoulders, hold it at arm’s length, and say:
> “Yeah, I’m not keeping this.”
“Return to sender, no forwarding address.”
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Handing it back doesn’t make you mean. It makes you free.
Some people will resist.
They’ll look at you with wide eyes and say, “But you’ve always carried this for me!”
Yes. And now you’re not. Growth!
It’s not about blame.
It’s about boundaries.
It’s about finally living from your own centre — not someone else’s emotional chaos.
And it’s delicious.
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The joy of saying: This. Is. Not. Mine.
Once you get the hang of it, it becomes addictive.
That guilt when someone’s in a mood?
Not mine.
That voice in my head saying I need to earn rest?
Not mine.
That overwhelming sense that I must fix everyone or the world will fall apart?
Not. Mine.
Honestly, once you’ve returned a few metaphorical suitcases, you start to walk a little taller. Breathe a little deeper. Maybe even smirk a little, like someone who just got away with something.
Because you did.
You got away with finally being you.
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Thinking of starting therapy?
Be warned: I will absolutely encourage you to identify what’s yours, what’s not, and what you’ve been carrying out of habit, guilt, or family tradition.
And when you’re ready, I’ll help you hand some of it back.
No postage necessary.
Just a deep breath… and maybe a little laugh.
