The Bag Lady
It’s finally March! These days I’m sort of enjoying the quickness of time, which is probably a bad sign for my overall happiness but hey, if it works for now might as well enjoy it.
I’m sure you’ve picked up on the fact that I spend a lot of my extensive free time thinking. I’m pretty sure I came out of the womb as an over thinker. Growing up, my parents told me I had an “old soul,” which I think is just code for, “you think too much for your age.” Well, the verdict is out, I absolutely think too much. Are you surprised? I bet you’re not.
One of the things that has been on my mind lately is the concept of baggage. Particularly, my baggage. As you know I made the stupid mistake of looking through old conversations last week in a quest to find some information. This act, as stupid as it was, led me on this mental journey of realizing (like you) that I haven’t quite dealt with my baggage. Particularly the baggage from my last relationship. I’ve been walking around like the bag lady for the past like 6 months without even realizing it.
As you know, I’m a confrontation avoider at the core. And that deeply engrained personality trait doesn’t stop at confrontation with other people. I’m also quite awful at confronting my own emotions. Convenient, huh?
Now that I’m in whatever I’m in, my old baggage has become glaringly apparent to me. I hope he hasn’t caught on to my slow-roasting psychosis, but you know, it’s pretty easy to smell a BBQ from a couple houses down.
Don’t get me wrong, I had my own high-school borne insecurities before, but instead of helping me heal those issues, they only got exasperated in the past 2 years. I didn’t realize it until the end, but what I needed was someone to scoop me up and appreciate me for the mess that I can be. Not someone whose behavior encouraged me to suppress my desire to be taken care of. And if there’s something good that came out of it, it’s the realization that having a partner should mean exactly that. A partner, who gives to you like you give to them. Two way streets, man.
It’s really been coming to my attention lately that I haven’t dealt with this shit. Poor Mr. Now will say something incredibly innocent, and it’ll get so in my head because it reminds me of something that happened last time around, something that contributed to the end of the relationship, something that made me feel like I wasn’t a priority. It’s not his fault, he doesn’t know, he probably doesn’t even mean it in the same way it was meant before.
But the really interesting thing about baggage is that it’s tough to be open about. No one wants to get into it with someone only to pause all the fun to unload item by item. It’s not cute and it’s not endearing and frankly it’s just sounds like a miserable thing to do. But you know what I realized just today? Everyone has baggage, even little things that someone says can clue you in on it, and you realize that it really cuts them to their core. It’s disturbing how we bury these things and only let them clumsily fall about when we’re asked or when we just can’t manage to hold it all anymore.
I’m gonna try and deal with the shit, or at least let myself feel it when it hits me instead of pretending it doesn’t hurt like a bitch to think about some of the shit I let go on.
No need for regrets, and like you said to me last night, no need to freak out over something that makes me happy because I’m freaking out about nonsense that happened in the past.
Thanks for your pep talk last night, and for reading my constant rants.
The Basic One