...I am the Holder of Things. This isn't a title that I chose, but one it seems, that I have inherited. "My Room" is full of stuff. Much of it is mine, but much of it is the Stuff of Others. I have carried it with me for years. Unconsciously, but willingly. As I've started to sift through the Many Things That I Carry, I've started to see what I have been doing. As a result I've started to ask questions like; Why am I carrying my sisters' baby's pictures, and unknown aunt's graduation pictures.
Being the Keeper of Things seems to include carrying the guilt, the shame, the insecurities, and the fears of other's as well. I think that I am ready to not do that anymore. As I continue to sift through the rubble of Things That I Carry, I find myself now willing to let go of the material as well as the emotional Things of Others.
I am looking forward to being free; of only needing to find room for the Things of My Own That I Carry.
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