Over the course of my life I have gathered scars, treasures, burdens and baggage. I bring them with me each day when I go to work, each time I meet someone new, each time I see the people I love.

They are mine.

They can be heavy.

They can be hurtful.

They can be helpful.

I remember getting my heart broken for the first time. What an awful feeling. Curled up in a ball on my couch, I didn’t think it could get any worse.

After that, any time a friend or loved one would leave my life, for one reason or another, I would think negatively of everything I did and did not do.

This continued to impact me because when I would meet someone new, they would no longer get the clean slate, the complete benefit of the doubt. Things were different. I knew more, and I trusted less.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized this insecurity, this lack of trust, is not only unfair but it can damage something good. These invisible wounds eventually manifest and when they do, the co-worker, friend or loved one is left to decode what is happening.


Often times I have found myself holding the wrong person accountable for a past injustice.

It’s not fair.

It’s not sustainable.

It’s not a way to live.

A long time has passed since that first break-up, things did indeed get a lot worse. Life has brought me to my knees in prayers of confused desperation, but, also in gratitude because things have gotten much better.

I am still faced with the daily choice, carry my belongings with a sense of appreciation for the lessons they have taught me, which will create a peaceful presence, or carry them with spite and resentment, risking poisoning the people in my present.

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