Baggage

I was chatting with a dad at the Girl Scout meeting yesterday. I don't remember how the conversation started (5 girls crawling around in the room, barking like dogs and/or meowing like cats... don't ask... may have something to do with my memory loss), but the subject of emotional baggage came up.

He commented that he's just too damn old to carry all that stuff anymore. It's too heavy.

Of course, me being, well, me, the idea stayed with me all day and into the night.

I know I am carrying quite a lot of it myself. I spent a good portion of my first 20 years packing everything up and taking it with me... good stuff and bad.

My baggage used to resemble what's in the picture, except my cart didn't have any wheels. I was just dragging all those bags along by a rope, tied to my ankle.

It was hard going. Often I arrived with sore legs and a weary heart.

It was difficult and disheartening to reach a destination and find that I was actually supposed to be somewhere else.

Fortunately, I usually didn't have time to unpack much, so the stuff was still attached.

I've been tossing bags overboard for some time now. Tired of carrying them, tired of wondering what I could add to my cart if I had room.

I have a good man in my life, and he's been very helpful as I sort through what I want to toss out and what I want to keep. By virtue of him being himself, he's added wheels to my cart.

He's not afraid to look through the contents of any bag I open. Even if said contents are putrid and disgusting after being locked up so long.

Because he's willing to help me, I've started unpacking a lot of those bags. I have opened some of the really big suitcases and found nothing in them. The contents I had stored there turned to wisps of vapor and sneaked out through the little openings, I guess.

There are bags I packed away with bad stuff in them. What's weird is, some of those bad bags have changed. They may not have turned good, but the contents are more benign than malignant after many years of lying quietly inside without being stirred.

Some of the suitcases that look small on the outside are roomy on the inside. That explains why there is so much in them. They're quite heavy.

In a sort of weird, treasure-hunt way, there are bits and pieces of certain hurts contained in more than one bag. I have to rummage through a lot of them to find all the pieces. Occasionally, I think I've rooted out all the parts, only to open a bag and find traces of anger mixed in with what should contain only happiness.

Evidently, I have a lot more clutter to clear out.

I may just upack a bag while you watch tomorrow. Don't worry, the contents are not too scary.

But while you wait, (with great excitement, I'm sure) are there any things you need to toss out? Don't be shy. It's therapeutic.