Quietly happy

I've been quietly happy tonight - a rare occurrence worth celebrating. I have no worries. I'm sick, my throat hurts, my head swims, yet I'm not worried - I know I'll get better tomorrow. I'm pulling information from an old laptop to the new one, I have deleted some old documents - and I don't worry about ever needing those again, I know there is nothing worth keeping except people in my life. I have a ton of work to do tomorrow, a list of unfinished tasks, a basket full of dirty laundry, a stash of cardboard boxes that need to be recycled - yet none of these grip me like they used to before. I am now able to close my laptop in the middle of a Skype chat, in the middle of typing up some paper, in the middle of cleaning up pics - I've stopped having that dreadful feeling, that need to watch out for tomorrow, for a catastrophe to happen, for a threat of death to my life. It's gone. At least, for tonight.

I want to check the weather for tomorrow, to think about whether or not I should bike to work, to think and plan what I should wear IF it is raining, and I choose not to. I will decide tomorrow morning, on the fly. I want to go grab my notepad and pen to empty out all ideas that came to me today, yet I stop myself - I don't have to. I'll remember them tomorrow, if they are important, and if I forget them - so be it, I will come up with new ones. I didn't think life could ever be so easy, and I can tell you - THIS was worth suffering through a month of panic attacks, through being ostracized from my family, through a near divorce with my husband, through letting go of my start-up company and taking a break from work, through the fear of never being employed again, or never being able to make money again. It was all worth this little quiet happiness I am experiencing now. This ability to make up my mind and go do what I want, without a second thought, without judgement in my head, without worry of what might happen, without fear of doing it wrong. I'm amazed at how much at peace I am - and I cherish it.

If you are carrying hidden baggage that doesn't let you be at peace with yourself, don't believe what anyone tells you - you can get rid of it. No matter how long you carry it, there is a way to throw it off your shoulders and leave it on the road, without saying goodbye, then just move on, empty, at peace. The reason we all carry our baggage is we are not aware of it, it doesn't feel heavy anymore, and we are not interested in looking at it - in putting it down and opening the bag. At looking what's inside. It's scary as hell. There are all sorts of monsters that threaten to jump out, so we choose to keep walking and keep carrying it. We notice others on the road too - they all carry their own stuff as well, walking slowly under the weight. We make friends with those whose baggage looks similar to us, we share our feelings of carrying all that weight, we discuss it, we get pissed at it, we get angry or sad, yet we do nothing about getting rid of it. Because to do so takes courage and risk - we don't know who we will be when we are free - you know, like when backpacking with a heavy backpack, after you take it off, after hours of walking, you feel funny. You want it back - it warmed your back, it felt solid and sturdy, and suddenly, without it, you feel naked, too light, too insignificant, not important. You want it back, and you put it on.

I too carried my baggage for 20+ years. My back felt very cold after taking it off, I felt the breath of death on my back, but I already turned to look inside. I opened it, and I took things out one by one, bloody family pieces, horror stories, cut off parts of memories, soggy feelings, perverted fantasies, moldy affections, tortured hopes, dark fears. My baggage is not empty yet, but I am almost done unpacking, there are but a few things left. Though I have no idea what else each of them will unravel for me, like the surprisingly deep connection between my hate to women and my relationship with my grandmother - I wanted to ignore that one little pocket in the corner of my bag, and if not for my therapist, I probably wouldn't have looked in there at all. It turned out to be deep and twisted. There are more. How can I be happy when it's not all done yet? I am happy because I am not trying anymore - for that someone else - to love me. I am not striving to be the perfect daughter for my daddy so that he might have pity on me and stop abusing me, I am not trying to be the perfect parent for my mother so that she can soothe her need for love, I am not trying to be all these other personalities I had to be for other relatives in my family. I can just be ME. I look at my baggage, and I know it is mine - not my father's, not my mom's, not my grandma's. I created it, and it is my job to get rid of it. And it doesn't mean that I have to do it every day - I can take breaks, breathe, enjoy the sun, look at the flowers by the road. Have a happy moment. Then I will return to digging through the rest of it. Not tonight. Tonight I am quietly happy.