Our Suitcase
We each come complete with a suitcase. Just like we come complete with a heart, a set of eyes, and a brain.
This invisible suitcase that we own is empty when we come into this world.
Little by very little we start to pack away things in there. Things like, “if I cry, then they will give me attention”
“If I make an A on a test, then they celebrate me.”
“If I say something that hurts someone’s feeling, then I am mean.”
“Wearing that brand means they have money.”
“Driving that car means they are doing well.”
As we grow older, our suitcase gets heavier.
You begin to pack in updated versions of those old thoughts.
“My husband’s title determines our net worth.”
“It is my responsibility to prep my child to get into the good schools.”
“Saying no is frowned upon so I must say yes.”
“One of these days I will get around to my health and my ever increasing waistline.”
As our parents begin to pass on, we inherit their suitcase. Less invisible this time and more physical.
We are tasked with the responsibility to sort through their entire life. Their papers. Their bills. Their investments. Their photos. Their medicine. Their clothes. Their toiletries. Their furniture.
As we do this, we begin to hear their voice chime in on what to do and what not to do.
“You can’t just give that away, do you know how much I paid for it?”
“I’m sure you want my wedding china and your grandmothers china.”
“That belonged to your great-grandmother and she used to sew all our clothes on that machine. Have you thought about picking up sewing. That is what good mothers do afterall.”
The more we drag around in those suitcases, they harder is it to move forward. We thirst for freedom, but it feels impossible. Like a dream that will never come true.
As the suitcase zippers start to pop off, we are forced to look through it’s contents. But all too often, it is too much for our brains and our hearts. There is not enough processing space left on the hard drive.
So we repair the zipper and carry on. Lugging around weight that isn’t ours to carry.