I never fully understood when someone called me a bag lady but now I do. I’d like to look at it as packing the BS away for another day, but that was quite the contrary. Let me explain, you know how some folks save every shopping bag… A huge shopping bag stuffed with hundreds of smaller ones, all crumpled and smashed together? That’s been me, only way worse. These past years of solitude have been like unpacking 40+ years of those bags. Memories I didn’t even remember existed – pain, trauma, abandonment, feeling like I wasn’t good enough, all those inner child wounds – stuffed in there, waiting.
I thought I’d hidden those bags away forever. But just like an overflowing cabinet, eventually it all explodes, leaving a mess everywhere. That’s me – the queen of shoving things down to keep others happy, believing my voice didn’t matter. When really, it did – they just didn’t want to hear it.
Unpacking this mess has been quite a bumpy ride, but beautiful too. I’m finally meeting my true, authentic self. And damn right I’m glad I dropped those bags and started setting my soul free. It wasn’t just me hurting – my baggage had spilled onto my kids, my relationships. I realized you can’t bury yesterday’s wounds – they bleed out and resurface. That’s what I was doing, putting things away for later, as a means to not deal with them. Not dealing with things because it kept others happy, because I was made to believe my voice didn’t matter. But it did. They just didn’t want me to embrace my power.
This unpacking journey has been bumpy, but it’s worth it. I’m getting to know myself, and it’s amazing.
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