A couple of weeks ago I went on a trip which involved flying in an airplane. I was very worried that the airline would lose my suitcase and I would be without all my clothes and things. I tried to tell myself that I could buy all new stuff if that happened but it didn’t make me feel any more at ease. I really like my clothes. They fit me well and I know just what to expect when I put them on. They are comfortable and familiar and I like the way they make me feel. I did not want to lose them.
Today I realized that I am hanging on to a different kind of baggage and although I don’t like the way it makes me feel, it is still very familiar and I know just what to expect when I wear it.
I became aware of it when talking to a friend. Yesterday he posted one of those picture jokes on Facebook of a woman crying and the caption said, “Gave me flowers for my birthday then went back in the garage to work on his car.”
Now because he is a car guy and loves to work on his cars it was funny to him and probably 80 billion other people. However I took one look at that woman’s face and saw immense pain and nothing funny at all. Couple that with the words, and well, it certainly was no laughing matter.
I made a comment on it how sad it was and that she looked hurt. I also said, “I know that pain.”
The pain of feeling like you mean absolutely nothing to the person you chose to spend your life with and gave all of yourself to. The pain of being unwanted, insignificant, worthless, pushed away and treated like you were something that needed to be tolerated like a burden or a chore. The pain of being not lovable.
With my ex-husband it wasn’t working on cars that he would rather do than be with me. It was alcoholism, fishing, sports and just about anything else but a lot of it was done in the garage.
Today my friend and I were talking on the phone and the subject of this joke came up. It was unbelievable how quickly and accurately I could pull that pain out of my baggage and react coming from that place of wearing it and feeling it. I started to tell my friend what I thought about that joke and felt myself experiencing these feelings as if they were fresh.
I tried to catch myself and explained that I am obviously reacting to this from a bad place and bringing some of my baggage to this situation. My friend, knowing that I have been divorced for over a year now, made a comment about how he thought I was over my ex and all that, but perhaps I wasn’t.
The conversation turned to something else and the call ended on a good note but I was left with a realization. I still carry a lot of baggage and rightfully so seeing as my marriage was 27 years long. That is a lot of pain to get rid of in just one year. I expect that I will revisit that pain and others for quite some time until I can heal but something else also became apparent during all this.
It is that I wasn’t insignificant, worthless and not lovable. That was just baggage I was carrying from my childhood. It was a story I told myself to explain behavior I was witnessing and experiencing. It was something familiar to me that I knew well so I used it to define the events in my life. It is baggage I want to lose.
So I will continue to heal by reminding myself that only I can define me and that no matter what other people do it is not because of me. It is because of them and their baggage. I will try on new meanings for the things that happen in my life and find ones that do make me feel good even though they are somewhat strange and unfamiliar. I will lose this baggage, piece by piece and wear a new me.
I’m just blowing bubbles.
Thoughts are like Bubbles 2 