Baggage

Once we reach a certain point in our lives, we are bound to have baggage of some sort. This baggage may come in the form of dark secrets, single parenthood, failed relationships, various forms of debt, employment struggles, college debauchery, and hosts of other reasons for a person to claim “baggage.” I know I can vouch for a few of those that I just listed, and I’m only 25.

I’ve got a mountain of student loan debt, I’ve had family drama, I suffered through unemployment, and I’ve had scores of failed relationships and heartbreak, the most recent one basically being like a divorce. The past four years of my life has the most rocky-up-and-down-roller-coaster-what-the-hell-am-I-doing-with-myself period of my short time here on Earth. I piddled around in college, partied too much, moved 900 miles to be closer to a boy, realized that life isn’t what I expected, got my shit together, graduated college, got a so-so job so I could stay close to the boy I moved for, lost my job to the economy, flailed about life, and endured more personal stress and heartache than I thought humanly possible. I knew life would have its ups and downs, I knew I would have periods where I felt like I was in a rut, but I never fully grasped that these periods could last years. I remember just laying in bed and thinking to myself, “WHEN WILL THIS END?!”

I felt bad about myself for a while. But being the I-don’t-want-people-to-know-how-depressed-I-am kind of person, I kept a lot of this bottled up inside. My best friends in the world didn’t even know how much I was struggling. 2006-2010 have been some of the most challenging, baggage filled years of my life. But you know what I finally realized? I’m not the only one. Not in a sense of, “There are starving kids in Africa, be thankful for what you have,” but when I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself, I realized that probably 90% of the population has circumstances in their lives in which they could qualify as “baggage.” We’ve all done things that we swore we’d never do, made sacrifices when we said we wouldn’t, given second chances when we should have moved on, accepted less than what we deserve, and generally made a disappointment of ourselves in some way or another.

But it’s the baggage in our lives that helps to define us, it shapes who we are, what we become. We’ve all got baggage, and we’re all better people because of it. We’re no longer so naïve that we see through rose colored glasses. We have stronger backbones, and a passion to make our lives into something more – searching for that happiness that we know we deserve. Baggage doesn’t need to be something that we hide from others, like that Britney Spears CD that we bought when she first sang “Oops, I Did It Again.” Our baggage should be a medal of honor. Something that we can wear proudly and say, “Yeah, I went through some shit. My life sucked. But I survived.” Not only did we survive, but we learned how to thrive against all odds.

I’ve got baggage. I’ve got more than just a carry-on. Yeah, I don’t have kids or a criminal record, but I did struggle with a battered heart, a confused mind, and a lost soul. For too long, I felt guilty about my “baggage.” I worried too much about what others thought and let certain people make me feel like I was unworthy, or not good enough because of that baggage. But you know what? I’m real. I have a heart, I have a soul, I have feelings. And that baggage makes me unique, because I got through it in my own way. I learned to be me. Not the “me” that others wanted me to be, not the “me” that I’ve been told that I should be, the real, true me. I am finally becoming the person that I want to be, the person that makes ME happy. Sure, I had the support of my family and friends, but when it came down to it, I was the only person that could truly pick myself up off of the floor and change my life for the better.

How we view our baggage is solely our own decision, and it is all how you look at it. We can go through the horrible times and feel sorry for ourselves, or we can drag ourselves out of the pit of despair and self-loathing and turn that baggage into a Congressional Medal of Honor. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all been there. We’ve got the scars to prove it. But, it’s not just about surviving. It’s about living.

I’m sure I’ll find some new baggage. It’s bound to happen. It’s all about perspective. I’m sure I’ll have a colorful assortment of bags by the time I reach my deathbed. Add it to the collection, I’ll send a “Wish You Were Here” postcard. Total up the frequent flyer miles, life…I’ve got lots of luggage, and it’s all coming with me.