The Cross We Think We Carry

I know you've heard it. The Cross we carry. Pick up your Cross. Hymns are full of this, sermons, people say it at times of crisis or tough times to connote just that; crisis or tough times.
And I believe that's too bad because most of us have no clue what it is like to carry a Cross. Not a single clue. But we do know how to use Cross carrying as a cover for pride. I should know since I am an expert at this.
Pride.
Pride?
Men don't cry - carrying your Cross. Women give everyone else the larger portion - carrying your Cross. Children be small adults - carrying your Cross. In American society, we are taught young that to complain, express emotion, let people know we are in distress, have needs, are hungry, is NOT carrying your Cross.
For the life of me, I can not find that in the Bible, although I was raised in a Christian family and our culture is undeniably one formed from Christian principles. I would like to find the person who came up with this thought the first go around and have a nice sitdown with them, because this person has made Cross carrying cliche and a lie.
We don't let people know about these things because we don't want to appear vulnerable, weak, less than the best. We put on great faces (facade?) and go out thinking we are carrying that Cross. Let me add that I am using "we" but it does feel comfortable. If you are not included in the "we" then I truly humbly apologize and want you to have a sitdown with me. I need it.
Pride is my greatest demon. I have a lot of them, but pride looms over me like the shadow of the Cross. Dark, sad, and empty. Like carrying the fake one, self delusion is heavy. It is a burden that drags you down day after day, until you are so wasted there isn't a lot left to call upon. That inner strength is sapped. Yet you try and have no idea why you aren't getting anywhere. Up pops another Cross - you think.
Don't get me wrong, many of us have bent backs from the burden. This is not an exclusive club. And, I am not a fixer. My Cross is so large, I have to wear a back brace just to stand straight!
I looked at Jesus on the Cross at Easter, and I dropped some wood chips at his feet. Just some chips. There he was, showing me how to let go of pride the best way he could, the most giving way a human can. In my face, he showed me. All I could give him were a few chips. And that tore at me like death. My pride is so important to me, to give up even a particle of it hurts.
Today I drove around the large cemetery in town visiting the duck pond, looking at the Dogwoods and Redbuds in bloom. When driving toward the gate toward the main roadway, I laughed. It had been so enjoyable. Everything so beautiful, so special, so sacred. "God is good," I said. "God is the best."
Yes, it was humorous. Because if God is good and is the best, and I am a part of God, that means I am a part of everything I had just experienced. Pride had nothing to do with it. I was free of the self imposed Cross for just a few seconds. I could have soared through the moonroof, as the load was lifted from my shoulder.
Then I made a right turn and headed to the car repair shop. A friend of mine found out my car was about to conk out and called to tell me to go have it fixed. I drove on from the cemetery to the repair shop. While waiting for the mechanic to dismantle Tina enough to see what all could be wrong, I read the book I'm enjoying; The Cloud of Unknowing.
When the mechanic told me it would cost $2,000 to fix Tina, I straightened my back brace and drove her home.