I was at the local grocery store a few years past.
This was a point in my life when I was married and the mother to two young daughters.
Life was busy. So busy that if I actually got 5 hours of sleep total in a day I considered myself lucky.
For the better part of my marriage, both my husband and I, worked to provide for the family.
It was usually he whom clocked more hours at his place of business than I at mine.
Yet the trade off was one that I, generally, carried the majority of children, family and household duties.
There were never enough hours in the day.
Lists made faithfully for daily responsibilities were always certain to have at least 1/2 of the daily listed responsibilities delegated to the next day.
Little time was allotted for relaxation and play and generally was considered reserved for an annual family vacation.
Yet even a family vacation brought responsibilities for myself.
We were on a budget and this often necessitated staying in rental homes where we could save money by performing our own housekeeping, eliminating the need for dining at expensive restaurants and paying for laundry services.
While both my husband and I were receiving nice income’s at the time I never considered ourselves well-off.
We were not poor either.
We, like most others, were “getting by”.
Did we actually need two incomes?
Yes and no.
We thought we did.
Now that I am older I see where we could have made different choices; where we could have chosen to let go of this here or do that instead there.
Yet hindsight is often 20/20, as the quip goes, and with age comes a wisdom that often eludes us in the chaos of raising a family and doing Life.
We learn as we go.
Hopefully we apply ourselves to our learning of life lessons and do the best we can at any given point with what we have acquired in wisdom before then.
I reflect on those years now and there are so many things I wish someone had pointed out to me then that would have made it all a little easier.
Here now, I share a story on a lesson I received that made an enormous difference in my life.
This lesson has become a tool for my daily living.
This tool affords one the opportunity to lighten up your baggage and free up energy for better usage on your life.
I have shared this with others through counsel and many have seen remarkable improvement in their stress levels and quality of daily living by simply taking the time to consider this parable and apply it accordingly to their individual circumstance.
Who’s Garbage is in Your Bag and WHY are You Still CARRYING it?
She was a delightful tiny child, this little blonde, blue eyed cutie wearing her black patten shoes, frilly white socks and her floral summer dress. A tot of approximately 4 years, she sat on the ledge, that separated the floor from the large glass frames that comprised the front wall of the local grocery.
On her lap was colorful small paper gift bag, the kind children receive at a birthday party, filled with wonderful petite party favors for being the ‘good little guest’.
She lifted her various tiny treasures out of her bag..a pink rubber bracelet, a ladybug sticker, a lollipop..and delighted at touching them and examining them at every angle before placing them carefully back within her ‘purse’.
Her sitting there in all of her animated joy was a stark contradiction to the scene witnessed behind her.
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Through the glass of the store front overlooking the traffic on Rt. 462 and the parking lot situated between the store and highway one could see a picture that was like a small slice view of what our world had now become.
There was the woman that had just wedged her vehicle into a parking lane at a sharp angle, speaking the silent message to others of, “This spot is mine. As soon as the current auto vacates this spot, IT IS MINE“.
There is a man in business attire striding quickly towards the double doors at the entrance failing to hold the door open for the woman pushing the baby carriage directly behind him. Surely though he must have seen her, for he had to walk around her on the sidewalk leading to the entrance, in his haste to complete his shopping errand.
The elderly woman struggling to retrieve a shopping cart from the tightly compacted carts lined up out front, her frustration in no-longer optimal strength apparent, as she pulls and tugs repeatedly with no success. Passers-by continuing on with no offer of assistance, possibly their own struggles of that day preventing them from being able to see a true need of another.
The highway is busy this day. Drivers weaving around each other carelessly as they endeavor to reach their destination on time. Angry horns sound every few seconds, a warning to other drivers that in some manner, they have become a hindrance in the path and speed of destination.
All of these things I viewed in a detached manner in likely no more than a minute’s span as I stood behind the blond, blue-eyed cutie’s mother in the checkout line awaiting my opportunity to pay for my goods and make rapid my escape to the next item on my daily ‘to-do’ list.
Hopefully I would soon be weaving my way along Rt. 462 with all the other harried commuters, for I too, had much to do and little time to do it.
I glanced again at the clock on the wall to my left and as I watched the young mother in front of me continue to place her groceries upon the conveyor belt I was silently praying that someone would come assist the checkout girl in the bagging of the mothers items so that I might get my opportunity at checkout just a wee bit faster.
After all, not only did I have to pick up my daughters shortly when school concluded for the day but I also had to feed the dogs and drop by my neighbor’s to pick up her daughter. Then it was a dash across town to drop off the neighbors child and my youngest at their bi-weekly dance class. After which, I had to drive back across one county and halfway into the next to drop my elder daughter at her evening class.
Afterward I would make the mad dash home to wash the dishes, toss a load of laundry into the machine, return the calls to my mother-in-law, the mechanic and my sister while quickly writing out a few checks and stuffing them into their proper envelops so that I could drop them in the ‘out-of-town’ box at the local post office on my way back out again hoping that by doing so the various bills would make their destinations in time to thwart any late fees.
As I was trying to accomplish these various tasks the phone was ringing non-stop with incoming calls making it quite difficult to place my outgoing return-calls. The front door bell was rung at least once, sometimes many times, usually by neighborhood children seeking the company of my daughters who were not at home.
This typical evening routine from the starting point of fetching my daughters at school and everything in between until it was all completed for that evening was likely to take place in a window of 4 hours or less.
That was just the evening scramble. There was also a morning scramble. An afternoon scramble. And lord forbid, sometimes an overnight scramble too if something unforeseen or unfortunate should occur in the lives of my family or someone else close to us.
Just to be clear, none of that identified me as special in anyway.
I was just ‘doing life’ like everyone else.
I was just doing normal.
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So here I was standing in line praying for the young mother to be processed and on her way faster.
While watching her little girl out of the corner of my eye I feel the dreaded anxiety starting to rise in my chest.
My breaths were coming a bit more shallow, and yet again, I was fearful of the surfacing of another panic-attack episode.
It had been 2 years since I had been diagnosed with panic disorder.
I did the best I could to get effectively through each day and not allow anyone to see me in this state.
I had little tricks that would help me to hold it together and appear normal like counting backwards slowly in my head from 100 while fixing my eyes on something busy occurring around me.
I just needed to concentrate on something or someone else and absolutely not allow myself to think about myself or how my body was betraying me and freaking out when there was no apparent trigger.
Yet there was a trigger.
Stress and a harried life was the trigger.
I knew that then, I just denied to myself that there was a trigger, for I had no idea how to change the stress in my life when so many people counted on me for their daily existence.
So I became very good at bluffing my way through.
At that point in my life I still was able to.
Later I would no longer have that luxury and I would have to deal with it all.
That was one of my biggest blessings in life when that time came.
Even though during that time if someone had told me my breakdowns were really miraculous beginnings of breakthroughs I likely would have slugged them squarely across the jaw.
I digress though for that is a whole other chapter.
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Still in line still awaiting my break a most heartbreaking sob catches my attention.
I glanced in the direction of the little girl whom when I had last noticed was busy adoring her bag of treasures.
A young boy, not more than 2 years her elder, was now standing in front of her and she was crouched on the ledge in front of the wall of windows overlooking the outer world chaos now in chaos herself.
The little boy, her brother, was pulling on a handle on one side of her bag.
She, was pulling on the other, trying to maintain possession of her bag.
I watched as his strength superseded hers, after all he was significantly larger in size, and standing over her which afforded him the benefit of leverage.
As he now wrestled the tiny bag of treasures from her hands she dissolved into wails of anguish.
You see, her brother had apparently just finished eating a chocolate bar and it was obvious by looking at the now empty wrapper, sticky from little chocolaty coated fingers holding it, exactly what it was he intended to do.
She knew, what was coming next.
And so did I.
Sure enough, the chocolaty wrapper was shoved into the lovely treasure bag with no concern for the treasures residing within.
With no further ado her brother dropped her bag back onto her lap and walked back over to stand beside their mother at the checkout.
As I watched, the little girl continued to cry as she opened her bag upon her lap and peered inside.
Her wails abruptly ceased and you could feel she suddenly had no joy at the contents within her bag.
Her treasures now were no longer appealing to her.
They gave her no pleasure as before and I could feel within her a connection now being made between the worth of an item being lessened, when contained within the same space, as someones discarded trash.
She arose from her perch on the ledge and walked slowly and heavily to where her mother was standing.
I watched as she tugged on her mother’s sweater sleeve attempting to secure her attention.
Her previous bag of delight was hanging from one handle on one of her tiny fingers and held at a distance away from herself.
Her young mother glanced down briefly long enough for the little girl to make her statement on what her brother had done to her treasures.
While her mother did indeed listen fully to what her daughter was confiding her body language was one of impatience and agitation.
She had much to do this day and there was little time for such childish nonsense.
She turned to her son on her other side while trying to package her groceries as quickly as possible and asked of him if he had “put his garbage into his sister bag”.
He admitted he did.
She asked him why.
He replied that he didn’t feel like walking to the garbage receptacle at the corner of the checkout lanes.
That he gave it to his sister because he didn’t want to hold it.
She could hold it, he said.
The little girl had listened to all of this between her mother and brother and stood awaiting a decision of some nature from her mother.
I think she was hoping for a statement of something like:
Her Mother speaking, “Tommy, it was not very kind of you to dispose of your garbage in your sisters bag. Emily loves her treasures and it is not your right to damage them in any way nor to expect her to carry your garbage around”…followed by, “Emily, I am sorry this happened to you and I while can’t change what has happened already I can help you clean out your bag and make it like new again and I will do my best to make sure that no one puts garbage in your bag of treasures again.”
These were not the words forthcoming though.
What was said went like this:
Her Mother speaking, “Emily it is no big deal. Hush your whining about it. It is just a little bit of garbage and it won’t hurt a thing. Now just get over it. I am way too busy today and don’t need a big to-do over something so silly. If you don’t want your bag anymore than we’ll just get rid of it.”
The little girl now just looked numb.
No more crying.
No more smiling either.
No more whining yet also no more joyful chattering.
Numb.
The three of them then made their way with their cart towards the exit doors.
Mom was walking briskly ahead with purpose for she had much to do.
The little boy was keeping pace with her.
The little girl was lagging behind with her head down and her once precious bag still hanging from one handle and fingertip as if she felt it were diseased.
As the checkout girl was now processing my goods I continued to watch this young families departure.
As they reached their car in the parking lot I was lost completely in what I had just witnessed.
Time and my own many concerns receded and I heard:
“Who’s garbage are you carrying? Are your treasures any longer your treasures? And who, ever told you that it was no big-deal, even though you were feeling anguish? How did you come to believe it was somehow your responsibility to be the recipient of an others garbage and you were not to whine about it and should just get over it?”
That….is what I heard.
The checkout girl had completed processing my goods and had quoted the amount due.
I quickly pushed aside that voice asking questions of me and swiped my credit card for payment.
I then rejoined the harried world outside.
What I had witnessed in the store that day and what I had heard from the questioning voice got lost in the fog of ‘doing life’.
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The day did arrive though that this voice returned and again asked of me these questions.
That was the day I took my first steps on my journey to self-healing and empowerment.
The day the memory of what I had witnessed that afternoon in the checkout line and the questions that I could not, or would not entertain then, I now chose to entertain.
This, was the first step in transforming my breakdown into a breakthrough.
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Self-healing begins with the awareness that we are not whom we wish to be.
Self-healing begins with the true desire to be more the next moment then you were the moment before.
Self-healing sometimes begins with the awareness that your bag of treasures is carrying garbage. It begins with the willingness to do what it takes to clear the garbage out of your bag regardless and in spite of messages your were given that led you to believe your feelings were not important and that you should just ‘get over it’ and ‘suck it up’.
Self-healing often begins when you have hit the absolute bottom and you have to make the choice to ‘clean it out’ or risk losing yourself completely.
Self-healing begins on the day you decide you ARE important and that your feelings do matter and that you have the right to CHOOSE what is in your bag and what is not.
Self-empowerment begins when you realize that is it YOUR inherent right as a child of Source to be joyful and healthy. That is it is your RIGHT to choose what you are responsible for and what you are not.
Self-healing and empowerment begins…on the day…you acknowledge your are worthy of Love and Respect, gifted to you by others, and for yourself, by You.
I invite you to consider these questions in context to your own life.
Ask of yourself: Am I carrying the garbage of any others and if so why am I doing so? Is it truly my desire to do so or is it something I have been doing out of a false sense of responsibility? Do I carry the garbage of another because I feel like I must? Who or what did that belief stem from?
Ask of yourself: What messages/patterns did I absorb in my life, that told me it was ok for another to dispose of their garbage with(in) me? Does being the recipient of an others garbage in any way benefit me?
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In conclusion:
You see the mother that day was not being a ‘bad’ mom nor was the brother being a ‘bad’ brother. That is not what this is about.
They both were simply responding/acting in a manner that in some way they had inherited from someone else.
These types of societal/familial patterns and programs CAN be changed.
We can individually break a pattern that has long survived within our ancestral line or society in which we reside. We can choose to do this for ourselves and for our future generations.
We CAN CHOOSE to be more than the moment before.
In this way, one person at a time, one step at a time, we can heal not only ourselves yet also our following generations and indeed the whole of humanity.
This need not be an impossible task nor even a lengthy one as some would believe. Evolution is directly influenced by the courage of those striving to be the change they wish to see.
“Be the Change, you wish to see, in the World”~Mahatma Gandhi
Start today by stepping onto your self-healing and empowerment path.
Start it for yourself.
What else do you have to do that is more important then seeing to your own health and happiness?
No one else can do it for you yet there are many that can and will assist you if you wish but you must be the one to choose to Heal Thyself.
Are you not worth it?
Blessings! Kachina Houska
[…] Who’s Garbage is in Your Bag and Why are You Still Carrying it? […]
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Hi, discovered your blog via Skywriter Donna Cunningham. Thank you for sharing your amazing insight. I’m catching up on your earlier posts but this one rang true for me and I thought I’d say hello.
I’m typing out that question and printing it out to stick it up in a prominent place where I can see it!
Thanks!
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hitchhiker72,
Thanks for the compliment, I am appreciative. 🙂
I visit your site from time to time, and enjoy your straightforward manner in your writing.
Pleased you have found something of use here.
Blessings~Kachina
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This was wonderful. It is so very true. We must discover how things work by breaking them apart. It is why we are here. Only through this process sometimes can we learn who and how we are and grow into what we are meant to become. Nothing lasts forever and it is not supposed to for without growth there is no life and something or someone who is not growin with us will grow without us as we will with them. It does not mean that our time together was meaningly only that some things are only there to deliver a certain message at a certain time a piece of the puzzel so to speak and that is all. Why we think we must possess any thing is a taught behavior and is not a natural one. It is amazing to me that anyone can function on a rational level in this chaotic world we live in the fact that we do is the oddity not the other way around. Thank you for your insight.
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Welcome Sylvia!
Well stated, and I concur. 🙂
Blessings! Kachina
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Hi Kachina!
I read this for the first time this morning.
This is a beautiful, lovely, gorgeous piece of writing, Kachina. You are truly gifted. It brought me not only to tears, but to sobs! You really really reached me on many levels. You are healing…..
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Thank you Jan. ❤
I hope those tears are accompanied by the achievement of something that will serve you well.
Much Love, Kachina
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You are a loving human being and soul \o/
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Thank you Angus.
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