Put down Your Baggage

A friend of mine told me recently that it’s really hard to find love later in life because we all accumulate so much baggage. Well, yeah, if you choose to look at it that way.

Personally, I’ve always hated the term “baggage”. It implies that as we go through life, we take on an ever-increasing amount of emotional burden that we can never shed, and it eventually weighs us down to a debilitating degree. Why not call it “life experience” or “lessons learned”? That reframes the whole concept.

Instead of being crushed under an unbearable weight, you are instead strengthened. As opposed to being less than desirable, you come with skills. Rather than being someone to avoid, you become someone with a lot of interesting stories to tell.

I genuinely believe that we increase in value over time. Remember, whatever coping skills you’ve acquired, even if they’re not ideal, have gotten you here. You’ve survived. And that is a fantastic achievement. High five!

It’s amazing what an attitude adjustment can do.

emotional baggage

An attitude of gratitude is what you need to get along. Read my book! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5

 

2 thoughts on “Put down Your Baggage

  1. leetrichell

    That metaphor I use is cinder block. It starts off as small pieces then slowly through time this concrete substance becomes heavier and bigger and then seems to almost crush someone’s will. I looked out from a small window of a small room where I could barely see what was happening on the outside of my world. I could not reach. I could only see through a small window where I had to stand up on a stool to reach up enough to look out. A structure was also built around me as a defense to the point of imprisoning me. I became an observer of others and of my own self trying to understand why I suffered and how I came to this. It’s an equation with many variables. Much of it was the autopilot of my mind to protect and others had a hand in molding me to what I am today. When I see others that have various issues similar to mine, I listen to their suffering and many times know what to tell them. Sometimes I don’t know what to say because we are all so different. I use to think I suffered more than most people with my situation. As I grew, the cracks of that structure started to appear. It took someone to reach out to me, break through the structure, and take me out but I had to also walk out on my own will. At that time I had lost hope and had never flown but I had to fly far away from everyone and everything I knew to a different place. I carried that cinder block with me. Though I have the freedom now that I didn’t before, I am not in denial of my own imperfections. I am an observer of those that think they are perfect because they stand out like a pink elephant floating in a room. That elephant is another metaphor of people with varian level of personality issues that my once naive self became victim to. I use to tell people that I hate people. I didn’t realize at the time that I also love. That equation shifts as I age and though I am imperfect and that cinder block is there, I make room for a shoulder for someone to lean on. The kind suffering souls that reached out to me as I did to them, we hold each other up the best we can to our ability. To hear the suffering of a dear friend tell me things, there comes an escaped tear from my eyes. I was hidden and invisible and to those that experienced the same, I assure them that I see them. My life experiences, as I am an imperfect person, reaches out. Though I suffer, I am not in that prison anymore but I still carry that cinder block. When someone rests their head on my shoulders in suffering, the cinder block is set to the side. I then feel a hint of what my purpose might be in this life other than just being alive and unique. I apologize for the long windy comment.

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