Baggage

It's strange when a relationship ends that it isn't just that relationship that is ending. It is every one before that, relived and ending all over again. It is more painful the more times you go through it.

We think we let it go and let it rest when our lives move on. In reality though, it lingers somewhere in the unconscious...waiting. It springs out at us at the very worst moments. It is our heart and brain's version of "kicking someone when they are down". It stinks.

I have been taking a tumble down memory lane the past few days and it is making this road of life a hazard. It is too much, too intense to see all of it all over again. It is too deep and filled with feeling to look at all at once. . It is odd how the simplest thing can trigger the tiniest memory and then how that little crack is enough to let a flood through.

Let it go.

We all hear those words many times throughout our lives. We even pound that phrase into our own heads. We do it. We consciously tuck things away. Pack our memories in silver boxes and tie them up with blue ribbons then tuck them neatly away. We are told to leave our baggage at the door. To let it all go. And we try and we think we do.

We never realize that our baggage is handcuffed to our wrists until another blow has hit and reminded us that we are still carrying it. It is part of us. It makes us who we become. It shapes the person we are even when we don't want it to. It still does. Why do we try so desperately to forget our lives and what we have experienced when it is the very things that happen to us that have created us?

I don't want to be bombarded day and night with every heartache I have ever known. I'm not. Not usually. However, echoes resound prominently in my mind and in my heart when an ending happens. My suitcases are getting fuller and it is heavier to carry some days more than others.

Yet, it is the living proof of my existence...I have really lived. It is in the intensity of emotion when we are digging right into our lives and truly experiencing. I didn't expect it to be all neat and tidy and simple. It isn't supposed to be though it would be nice if it were. It surely would be easier.

I can't choose what kind of and how much baggage I will carry. I can only choose how I carry it-with the assurance that I am strong enough to do so or I can do the opposite-allow it to weigh me down.

Monika M. Basile