A box of junk

One of the hardest things I ever did should have been the easiest.  At least it seems like it should have been.  One of the hardest things I’ve ever done is let go. 

See, for years I had been carrying something so heavy, so cumbersome and awkward, that all I wanted to do was lay it down – but I couldn’t.  It was as if it were chained to my arms.  Like it was glued to my heart.  So I spent all of my energy just trying to walk on, one exhausted step before another, while my heart broke and my mind screamed under its weight.  

It should have been easy.  

To just let it go.  

But it wasn’t.

If it had been a block of gold, I would have laid it down in an instant, for the effort of holding on would not have been worth it.  If it had been an armload of precious jewels, I’d have dropped them without much thought at all.  And I would have carried on, easily accepting that they were not mine to wear.  

But this wasn’t a block of gold or a package of jewels.  It was just a box of useless junk.  Just a memory.  Just an assumption.  Just a fear.  Just a lie.  Heavy.  Awkward.  Cumbersome.  Taxing.  

And yet I carried it still.  I carried it, struggling against every step.  I carried it, distracted by the effort and exhausted by the internal battle it caused.  The internal battle of clinging to something I wanted to let go.  I wanted to let go.  I just couldn’t see how.  

It’s strange, isn’t it?  That the hardest and most difficult thing to figure out would be how to just drop something?  

But there I was, breaking beneath the weight of it, and yet unable to unlink my fingers and loosen my grip enough for it to slip from my hands, to detach from my heart, to pass from my mind.  So, unlike the gold or the jewels, this junk had a hold of me – even though I was the one holding on to it.  

But here’s the weirdest thing – when I finally did let go, I had no idea how I did it. 

All I knew was that the exhaustion was so great, the frustration was so intense, the strain was so severe that I supposed I had no choice.  I let go.  Because I had to.  Or maybe just because it was time. 

In hindsight it looks so foolish.  Holding on to rubbish that long.  Beating myself bloody inside instead of just letting it go.   But I don’t think it was foolishness.  Not really.  I think it was conditioning.  

Carrying that needless trash was teaching me strength.  It was gifting me with understanding.  It was teaching me compassion.  And when I realized this and forgave myself, I walked on feeling lighter, more free, more helpful – until I eventually picked it up again.  

I know it wasn’t the smartest move, picking it up all over again – but you have to understand, this junk was old.  It was familiar.  Even as it corrupted my dreams and put needless pressure on my soul, it also somehow made me feel safe.  Because it’s what I’d always done.  I had always carried these things.  

The second time around, I moved a little better under the weight of it, because carrying that baggage sort of felt like home.  But with time, my strength again wore out; and I was left facing myself with the question – why did you pick it back up?  

I dropped it a bit faster this time.  Because I had muscle memory.  I didn’t need to know ‘how’ I did it last time, only that I ‘did’.  And so I walked on, once again free of the unnecessary weight and able to give love to myself and to others without holding back.  

I’ve done this many times since, letting go and then in moments of stress or fear picking the damn thing right back up.  

But each time now I learn.  

I learn where the junk came from.  I learn why I came to love it.  And hate it.  And why I keep grabbing hold of it again.  But one of the most beautiful things I’ve learned through this process of letting go is how to support someone when they are carrying their own old, heavy junk.  

I’ve learned that I can’t help them carry it, and I can’t make them let go – but I can be present there with them while they figure it out.  

I’ve learned to be courageous in the face of stress and fear, because that’s the weak point.  I’ve learned to be resilient, because that’s what it takes to still look at yourself in the mirror after you’ve repeated the same cycle again.  And I’ve learned how to forgive.  Because I know now how incredibly difficult it can sometimes be to do the simplest things.  

Because now I know how hard it can be to just let go.  

© 2023 Cristen Writes

Image by Panifilth on Deviantart