We all have it, right? I think sometimes readers of my blog assume I have a lot more than others. I don’t think I do, we all have our little pockets of emotional stuff we carry around with us. Some of us wear them as back-packs, allowing them to weigh us down now and then. Some of us wear them as record bags, across our chests, like a dead weight when we breathe in. Some of us wear them as cute little hand-bags, tucking them away and only bringing them out after a glass of wine or two. Some of us haul them round in heavy black bags, like huge, ugly sacks of rubbish. Some of us keep them in our pockets, hidden away like secrets.
I hold my emotional baggage in all of these ways. I talk about things a lot; I write about things too. I analyse things too much in my mind and I make things seem worse than they actually are sometimes. I’m also overly-sensitive at times and I am liable to cry easily.
That’s me. That’s my baggage.
Some of the stuff on my blog has been written without my thinking about it. What I mean is, I write it, I post it and then I realise that I have opened one of those bags without meaning to. Please don’t think that I am a gibbering mess; I’m quite sane, really. Please don’t think that I sit at home crying about the stuff that has happened in my life- there is far too much good stuff.
I’m no different to you. You have your baggage too. You just carry it differently.