I Carry All This Crap With Me (I Carry It In My Heart)

"I came here with a load, and it feels so much lighter now that I've met you" Coldplay, Green Eyes

It's funny how the words we use to describe emotions are so often material. We "let go" or "move on" from things in our lives and even though thoughts don't weigh anything until they become tears they certainly make our hearts heavy.

What if we had a way to see every thought we had in a day? A physical manifestation of the real but invisible monologue we are never with out; everything would stack neatly in a pile - like my sundresses, rompers, and shorts.

The truth is we carry these thoughts and feelings with us the way I carry my life here in Argentina: on our backs. We devote energy to maintain their presence, and they change the way we experience a walk or a bus ride. Each time I pick up my backpack I am acutely aware of every single item in there. With each step I consider "Yes, I like this (thing). But do I like it enough to carry it around a foreign country and sacrifice my happiness for it?". The answer for nearly all of it, even the hair products, is "no". And if I could do it all over again I would pack a bar of soap, a bathing suit, and a sundress and leave the rest at home.

If I could look at my thoughts I would be ashamed to see how tired I make myself over things and emotions I don't want. My feelings of self-doubt alone could outweigh 42.8 lbs; I keep a heavy supply of it for whenever I check my bank statement or think of a word like 'career'. It even comes in a labeled container that says "what the f- am i doing?".

Then there is anger, the heaviest emotion of all, stacking up with resentment brick by brick. I can feel it behind me with every action, reminding me never to let anyone into that emotional backpack unless I want my proverbial dirty underwear strung across an electric wire. I feel like I need to keep all my faults with me to protect them from being found.

But I'm beginning to realize they they too aren't worth their weight. It seems so obvious, but as a person who buries their feelings I'm tempted to compare my heart to Mary-Poppins purse, not a backpack. I am often surprised by what I find hiding inside myself. It's time to start unpacking, and to leave the things that aren't worth it by the roadside. I'm lucky enough to know now that my backpack wont ever be empty, but it can be light.