As a child my hands were always full. I carried a teddy bear. I carried a Sippy cup. I carried around the fear of people noticing a hemangioma I had on the left side of my cheek. Things you carry are things that change with age. They are part of growing up and becoming who you are. As a 15-year old I now I carry different different things: iPhone, sadness, and pressure.

I carried the: teddy bear. It only weighed around three pounds, yet I carried it everywhere. I carried it to the first day of kindergarten, hoping it would remind me of my family; instead I got made fun of. “Were you too scared to come to school without your teddy bear because you were afraid you’d miss your Mommy too much.” This moment seems like just yesterday, as I play it back in my head. That’s the thing with things you carry, you’ll always remember them. I carried it day after day, until one day I realized I was too old, and that teddy bears were meant to sleep with at night. I made the Teddy Bear at Build A Bear filling it with what looked like white fluffy cotton candy. I remember the woman telling me, “Hey she’s going to be your best friend!” Sadly, this was true for the next two years. It’s amazing how three pounds can provide so much comfort. The one time I lost it was on the beach. It was a scorching hot July Afternoon with hot humid hair, with no sea breeze. For some reason, I thought it was a smart idea to bring a fuzzy teddy bear to cuddle with. I also thought it’ d be a good idea to bring a fuzzy teddy bear into the ocean with me. I along with my teddy bear being horrendous swimmers got knocked out by a wave. I survived, the teddy bear didn’t. That same teddy bear has been replaced with an identical looking one that doesn’t smell like seaweed. It still sits on my bed, dressed in an old dirty dress from Build-A-Bear.

I carried the: Sippy cup. The Sippy cup was always in my hand. My mom had a fear we would dehydrate. She made sure we had something to drink at all hours. It would always have cranberry juice with vitamin C in it to be sure we also never would catch a cold. Not sure if this method worked, as it seemed like every November I’d have a terrible cold. At school I had my Sippy cup until second grade, at camp, on walks, anywhere you name it. I always had something to drink, always, always. It explains now why my mouth always feels dry and why I’m always thirsty.

I carried: The birthmark. It technically does weigh something. It’s not something I choose to carry, but then again we don’t choose our physical appearances they’re given. I was born with it on the left side of my check. It was just a bump that resembled strawberry jam smeared all over my face. As a child, I carried the fear of being judged. I carried the fear that people would be scared of me. My fears were real. What I carried was real. The children glowering at me in terror because my face looked different were not my imagination.  The weight and fear has somewhat drifted as I’ve received several laser treatments. Now I carry new fears, still wondering if people notice. In a society where image is so present, I constantly carry the fact that I have a birthmark.

I carry: The iPhone. It’s amazing to think that the majority of my communication is all done within a 3.95-ounce device. My pictures, my memories, are all within the palm of my hand. My iPhone carries the communication I have with others. It carries the long facetimes I have with my sister. It carries the pictures from my summer and pictures from my sister’s graduation. It carries my email, my canvas app, my grades. It carries a portion of my identity.

I carry: Pressure. It’s invisible, yet always with me. Pressure to impress my family, pressure to look good, pressure to get good grades, everything. I don’t come from parents who yell at their kids if they don’t get A’s. My parents are the types who want us to do our best, to reach our greatest potentials, no matter if that’s a B or an A. So the one who instills the pressure is myself. I still haven’t figured out why I carry so much pressure on myself. As a child, there was pressure to be better than my sister. I carried the pressure it was always a competition, which got mom’s attention, which got dad’s, who won mini golf, who won actual golf, or who got a better grade with a teacher.  I carry the pressure of tests, essays, getting into a good college, and everything in between. It’s all just feelings of apprehensiveness and stress being carried.

I carry: Sadness. Lately everyone in my family has been carrying it. My dad has had a back injury for three months. My sister left for college. Although sadness is not something I physically carry it really is the thing that takes the most toll on me. Slowly each day we get more used to the fact that my sister is gone. I’ve gotten used to the fact I will no longer see her school. I’ve gotten used to the fact I no longer will walk home with her. Yet still, a part of my house feels like it’s missing. My family and I ignore it and don’t really talk about it, yet I know we are all carrying this weight.  I carry the loss of my grandmother. She passed away a few years ago, yet it still never really hit me. Whenever I touch the robe she gave me, or the Star of David necklace she gave me a certain feeling comes to the pit of my stomach. I like to think that feeling is called sadness.

We all carry things, invisible and visible. Everyday we talk to others, possibly not sure of what they are carrying or maybe we know everything they are carrying. Either way what we carry makes up the people we are. What I carry emotionally and physically create the person I am: the teddy bear carried my comfort, the Sippy cup, birthmark, the iPhone, the pressure, and the sadness. They are literally and figuratively who I am and what I am made of.