Pillion rider syndrome

Recently, I embarked on a long motorbike trip along coastal Maharashtra as a pillion rider. It was an enlightening experience, not just in terms of the scenic coastline but it also helped me expand my understanding of human relationships. The trip was planned with all necessary precautions and biking gear. For understandable reasons, I was aware that the comfort of the rider is crucial in a long drive. I consciously took on the role of a considerate pillion rider, ensuring the ride was comfortable for both of us. I was mindful of not making any sudden movements that could lead to an imbalance for the vehicle. I was carrying a heavy bag and was carefully making gentle movements to support my posture.

As the journey progressed, I began to notice a dynamic emerging. Our breaks and rest stops during the journey were all structured around the rider's needs, as their comfort was crucial for a safe and smooth journey. However, as the journey stretched over three days, I found myself carrying not just the heavy bag but also a growing sense of resentment.

It gradually felt like my discomfort, though less consequential than the rider’s, was consistently minimized and unacknowledged. Over time, I began to feel unimportant, as though my role was reduced to merely supporting the rider’s needs. What started as a collaborative journey slowly turned into an experience where my purpose as the pillion rider began to erode. I felt unappreciated for my mindfulness, my efforts and my discomfort felt disregarded and I started noticing resentment raising its hood within me.

This tree with the creeper growing on it reminded me of the rider and the pillion. A snapshot from this very coastal Maharashtra trip.

This realization gave birth to a term I have called the Pillion Rider Syndrome. It encapsulates a phenomenon I’ve observed not just in myself but also in the lives of my clients and the people in my life.

Luckily for me, I had the safety to convey to the rider what I was feeling, once I became aware of my building resentment. The rider took it very supportively and apologised for not being attuned to my discomfort and immediately acknowledging my challenges as the pillion and thanking and appreciating my contribution. While this was a vulnerable conversation that felt uncomfortable and took efforts, the rest of the ride then felt lighter and happier for both of us!

In many relationships, especially during times of crisis, one person's needs can become the focal point. Whether it’s a partner grappling with a significant challenge, a child requiring extra attention, or a friend going through a tough phase, the "rider" often becomes the centre of care and concern. The "pillion" — the supporting partner, friend, or family member — willingly steps into a secondary role, prioritizing the other’s well-being. 

While this dynamic might work in the short term, over time, the pillion's unaddressed discomfort and unspoken needs can accumulate. Their contributions may go unnoticed or be taken for granted, leading to feelings of resentment, burnout, or even a loss of purpose in the relationship. The issue isn't about the rider's needs being important—they absolutely are. But it is possible for both of their needs to sit alongside each other.

This is an almost natural polarization that tends to happen in interpersonal relationships. And it is okay as long as all parties get to play different roles at different times and there is consideration for each other’s role. Or in other words, there is enough fluidity in the system. It is when these roles get more hardwired in the long run that the relationship begins to erode.

The Pillion Rider Syndrome is a metaphor for how we navigate relationships in life and more so during challenging times. It reminds us that care is a two-way street. While it is natural for one person’s needs to take precedence in certain situations, it is equally vital to ensure that the other’s contributions, needs and presence are acknowledged even though they might seem relatively smaller at the moment.

In the end, the journey—whether on a motorbike or in life—is most fulfilling when both the rider and pillion feel supported, valued, and connected for their respective roles. By being mindful of each other’s needs, we can foster relationships that thrive, even in the face of challenges. So, the next time you find yourself in a dynamic where you are either the rider or the pillion, remember: the journey is about both. Balance, after all, is the key to a smoother ride.