I lug it around, because I just haven’t found anywhere else to put it.
On the side of the bag is a word that is winning games with my mind. But I’m tired of carrying it around with me. It’s been weighing me down, so I’m ready to unpack. I’m almost scared to even unzip the bag for fear of the sheer mess of crap that could come tumbling out of it. Stand back…here it goes.
I’m unpacking disappointment. It wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what it should have been. But it was what it was. And that is ok.
I’m unpacking shame. There is no need for it. I showed up, and that is enough.
I’m unpacking anger. It takes more energy than peace, and leaves deeper wrinkles.
I’m unpacking failure. I can honestly say that I gave it everything I had. I fought a good fight with every ounce of energy in me. So in the end, that’s anything but failure.
I’m unpacking fear. What reason do I have to fear an ending, when an ending opens the door to the next beginning? Just like my two year old I should run with reckless abandon…and if I fall down, I will simply get back up again.
I’m unpacking regret. The journey didn’t go quite as planned…but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t value to be gleaned from the experience. So let the gleaning begin.
There it is. The bag is unpacked, and my whole mess of crap is now out in the open, naked and vulnerable for all to see. For some reason I think if it’s out there it will not be able to hurt me. If I face the contents of the bag head on, with conviction and strength, if I call the mess in the bag what it really truly is, then I have more power over it than it does over me. If I pour out the contents and let them scatter to the wind...
... then I win.
If I unpack the bag, I can move on.
Start over. Clean slate. Second chance. Lighter load. Mulligan.
The word on the side of the bag is LOVE. And with the old unpacked,
there is room for something new.