Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “bagged.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

If you carry around emotional baggage, does that make you bagged?

There were many Facebook-barfy-inspirational-quote-dreamy photos I could use here, but I prefer the funny, slightly snarky ones.

I wish this were true, but my emotional baggage isn’t a matched set of Louis Vuitton. When I moved from Kentucky to New Hampshire the trunk of my car looked like this

Oh sure, there are some good pieces in there, some Coach and Kate Spade, there’s a wayward Samsonite. The actual bags and luggage span the literal centuries. But mostly, things are contained in rubbage bags, and those also span the centuries. Plastic emotional bags smoosh into the smallest corners and are quite versatile, albeit environmentally unsound.

Some I’ve picked up in swank places. I selected them myself. Most of the emotional baggage was given to me, here and there, in various places, often by random people, maybe even from a magazine or television show or advertisement. The stinkiest are from people who were supposed to care about me, and some of those are the oldest. Someone gave me their bag to hold, and being a nice person, I did. They forgot to come back for it. I was bagged.

Bagged and tagged?

A gift bag, for your traumas.

1 Comment

  1. The “I’ll get yours if you carry your mother’s” truck me. Shame is very real. Well so is insecurity & guilt. Most if not all of my emotional baggage is of my own doing. At least, I’m not helping things by worrying & making stuff up.

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