Home. No longer a sprawling tiled-floor apartment in a concrete building, buzzing with the noise and heat of a tropical city. Home was now carpet and wood, stacked quietly on top of itself.

Instead of 3rd floor windows overlooking a bustling street, I could look out onto grass and trees. The yard was just outside of the back door where I could sink my toes into long green grass. It had been years since I’d walked barefoot in the grass. I could meander down the street to the quiet neighborhood park and breath in the lush green of an Ohio summer while walking beside the creek.

Being near nature was soothing and I breathed it in every day. I feasted my eyes on the green of the earth and the blue of the sky and felt my soul expanding again.

Finding Myself in the Baggage

While the boys were occupied climbing trees and playing with toys they had not seen in years, I began to unpack our baggage and all the boxes we had stored during our time away. It wasn’t long until I made a discovery I was not too happy about. I was finding myself in the baggage.

While the physical act of unpacking and setting up house all over again was a welcome distraction from the grief and pain, I was still me. The same things still triggered me. I found myself constantly reacting instead of being proactive and creating the space for what I needed.

Constant Companion

I discovered, for better or worse, I was my own constant companion. While changing continents was necessary, it was not magical. Our baggage accompanies us through change.

The codependency I talked about in the previous post dominated just as much as before. I obsessed over creating a calm and happy space for my family. If they were happy, I thought maybe I could be happy too. I couldn’t dream of doing something for me until they were all happily occupied and the house was cleaned up for the day. I believed my needs only mattered when their needs were taken care of. Which, when you are caring for little humans, is expecting the impossible.

Our baggage accompanies us through change.

I didn’t know how to do anything else. It still felt selfish to take time for me when there was so much to do and so many hungry mouths to feed.

Spiraling Down

My emotions were enmeshed with my husband’s and I tried to ride the roller coaster bravely but mostly fell off in terrible ways. If he was sad or depressed, I felt it was my fault. When he was tired, I felt I should do more so he could do less. If he withdrew emotionally, I feared he was loosing interest in me.

It was a vicious cycle and I was dying inside. I had initiated a transcontinental move for my family so that I could begin to heal in a familiar place. But now that I was here, I couldn’t let myself take the needed steps to heal because it felt selfish.

I went through some dark dark days. I wasn’t suicidal, but I wanted to die. I begged God just to take me. Hope had vanished. The weight of the world was on my shoulders and I could barely take another step.

The Value of Supportive Friends

There were a couple of people who kept me from going over the edge during this dark time. One friend cancelled her anniversary plans with her husband and met me at an ice cream shop. In the safety of her soulful presence, I let it all out. She listened and then she pushed back just enough to help me see I needed to start taking care of “me”.

Another friend had just separated from her husband, who was gay. She decided her kids were better off with a mother who was moving towards wholeness, even if it meant breaking up the traditional family image they had projected for years. A parent who was whole and healthy, was better than one who broken inside.

Her wisdom had a jolting effect on me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. It wasn’t selfish of me to do what I needed to do to take care of me. Moving towards wholeness may be temporarily disconcerting to those around us, but, in the long run, makes us into someone who can love and live better.

I must add, though, that if you are in a codependent relationship, the other person will be more than temporarily disconcerted. If you are no longer the crutch or the enabler, you may feel the full force of their wrath and it will be doubly hard for you to pursue wholeness. If you are in this situation, it is of utmost importance that you surround yourself with wise people. Find true friends to keep you on track and help you sort through what is true and what is distorted.

Finding Myself in the Baggage

Nearly a decade later, I can look back and realize that I truly did find myself in the baggage. It was a long process but I dug deep and sorted through. I let go and tossed out. Now I treasure what is left behind. Today, I truly like the self that I found in my baggage. It was the baggage that had to go, not me.

Once you figure out who your true self is, and care for it, something beautiful happens. You no longer realize with dread that your self is your constant companion. Your soul savors it with joy because it’s like coming home. You can knock about in that soul of yours and look out at the ocean of life and smile.

So for all those who are not yet at that place, who have forgotten what hope feels like, I see you. I hope that you can find a little bit of hope in these words.

Like Patel says in one of my favorite movies, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel –

Everything will be all right in the end so if it is not all right, it is not yet the end.

Patel in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Keep holding on. Bravely face yourself and all your baggage. Have the courage to keep digging. There is a treasure for you to find. And I, for one, am cheering you on!

Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.