Suitcase Full of Memories

When I moved cross country I left most of my belongings in storage. I'd planed to return in six months. It has been SEVEN years. My belongings were moved, given away, and sold. I went through the entire grieving process over the years and come to accept that I would probably never see any of it again. Low and behold, a suitcase worth of my things were saved and delivered to me.

I thought I'd be elated to see any relics of my past life, but honestly I felt fear. I put off taking possession of it for weeks. I'm not sure, looking back, if I could quantify the source of all my anxiety. Maybe it was because I'd given it all up for lost. It was unsettling to think of items I let go of to suddenly be mine again. Perhaps, I knew that whatever was in the suitcase would bring my past flooding back.

Not that the past is bad, but it's a bit like exhuming a body. There is far too much emotion so fear wrestles the weaker feelings to the mat and becomes all you can recognize. I honestly, don't know what was left to feel after all the years and tears. I left an apartment worth of stuff and could only think of two things I wanted back: My Rainbow Brite Doll (what was I thinking?!?) and my red shoes. All the books, movies, and kitchenware that I bemoaned losing, had shifted down the priority list over time. It's just stuff.

In one of my last conversations about the stuff I left behind I said "throw it all out." I didn't want that stuff to exist anymore. I was tired of having a piece of me somewhere else. I was angry that my decision years ago meant stress for someone else now. I don't want to remember a time I can't go back to. I'm afraid to waste time regretting things I can't change. I'm afraid of getting emotional about what isn't in the suitcase.

I took possession of the suitcase, my sister so graciously packed and delivered to me, this holiday season. I thanked her and looked through it. My doll was rescued and a ton of journals and scrapbooks. These things from my past were documentation of my past stretching all the way back to went I left for college. Strange. I felt numb looking through everything and then I brought the suitcase home.

It remains in the hallway untouched. Part of me feels like there is no room for all that ME in this house. Where do I physically put it? Do I have any right to have these momentos of my life before Mike and the kids here? What is ok here? My before life and my current reality always had boundaries before now...

I must reconcile the before me with me now. I must unpack the suitcase. Right? Why is it so hard?