The unpacking.

I have lived in many rooms
but have yet to unpack my baggage.

It’s not like I haven’t tried
it’s just that every time I take an item out, fold it and put it away it seems as if a new one appears in it’s place,
kind of like it does in that bottomless pit of a bag Hermione has in the Deathly Hallows,
and at some point it all started feeling so overwhelming that I decided to just leave it.
Not for forever, just for later because
you know, later is always easier.
(The most frequent lie I tell myself.)

So, now it’s just sitting there,
mid- floor
bag wide open, a gaping hole
always on guard
ready to devour me
if I get too close.
I could armor up and put it away
out of sight, out of mind
but I don’t.
Call it torture if you wish
but I keep it there
as a constant reminder
to make sure I never forget,
not even for a second,
that I too have my things.

It’s worked, at least until now.
Over and over
I’ve been able to let it be
gone out the door with a “see you later”
and with a “let me help you ease the weight”
headed straight for the bag’s of another.

Let me busy myself with your healing
whatever you need, whenever you need it.
I’m here, always free, always ready.

“How are you so steady?” they’d ask
and I’d tell them not to worry about me
that I’m doing just fine
that all I want
is for them to be alright.

And it’s always been true
at least until it gets dark.
Because no matter how many breakthroughs and healings the day has ushered in
those same bags are still patiently waiting when I get home
and there, in those wee hours
there is no escaping.

With nowhere to run
and nowhere to hide
I would step inside, stare them down
and then close my eyes.
“Maybe tomorrow”, I’d tell them
“I’m tired now”.

And so they would remain
like a stubborn itch I can’t scratch away
Until I wake the next day
And do it all over again.

Until now.
I’m not sure what made this night different
but this time
instead of coming home and closing my eyes
I walked up to those dusty bags
sat my ass down and said
“I’m here and I think I’m ready.
Tell me the secrets you hold,
the hurt you’ve been harbouring.
I don’t know where to start and I’m not sure what to do with it all
but I see you
and I’m listening.
Please, show me my things.”

I’ve started unpacking.

//Hanna

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