Sunday Scribblings..."with baggage"

I’ve long believed that I carry too much “baggage”. With my heart on my sleeve and the weight of the world upon my back, I stumble along the pathways of life. Some people look my way, intrigued, wondering what it is that continues to drive me, how it is that I am able to carry such weight upon my fragile shoulders. Others look at me and turn their back, unable to see beyond the overwhelming piles of “baggage”, terrified that in facing me, they, in turn, will be forced to face their own “baggage”. And then there are those few precious souls that look me directly in the eye, see my heavy load, and wordlessly transfer some of my bags to their own backs, willing to share the journeys of the world with me.

Even though there are moments when I resent carrying so much “baggage”, days when my shoulders feel as if they might break from the sheer weight of it all, I do not regret the origin of these bags or the life that has led up to this moment. I do not apologize for the bouts of depression, the years of anxiety, the unspeakable past. I stand tall, my shoulders squared, ready to face the world, “baggage” and all. I do not feel angry when people take one look and turn their backs to me; I feel sorrow that they may never know the beauty of life’s most difficult lessons. I do not feel resentment when I see others whose loads are lighter than my own; I thank God for the experiences of my own life. And though I used to believe that my “baggage” was too much, I now look in the mirror and see that this is who I am. It is not “baggage” that is illuminated in my reflection; it is merely the pieces of me and my life.