Baggage

So, I'm slightly fuzzy from a glass of wine. I feels really good after a full day of teaching. And I'm remembering.......... One year ago, I had just finished my last day of teaching at Bob Jones Academy. I was in the midst of depression, living at my friend's house for accountability. Most nights I slept 4 hours at the most. My heart would race. I couldn't breathe. And sleep escaped me. It was a viscious cycle that would gloriously end around 3:00 most nights. I would get up to face the day with the goal of making it to the end of the school year without being fired.
Why would I be at risk of being fired? I am a good employee. In fact, my boss continued to beg me to return the following year. I could have been fired for any of the following reasons: I attended a church that used contemporary christian music in its worship, I had been to see 3 movies in the theatre while in the employment of BJU (Cars, Esther, The Nativity), I had drunk wine, and I listened to whatever music I cared to. But I wasn't fired. Somehow, I managed to fly under to radar. I'd learned how to keep my mouth shut. But living in christian fundamentalism for 31 years has left me with some pretty heavy baggage. Meet me at Baggage Claim and help me load it all onto one of those rental carts.
The first piece is light. It almost lifts itself off the revolving belt, but as I set it down, I hear that something's broken inside. Checking the tag, I read: "Congradulations, you survived." I set it aside, scanning for the next piece.
I see it careening down the ramp on the other side. I grimace waiting for the crash as it settles in with the other bags. As it makes its way towards me, I notice the other bags seemed to have been cleared out of the way. It's just my dark and heavy bag. Taking a deep breath, I grunt as I pull it over to join the first bag. I check the tag: "Depression. You'll never make it." I nod, hearing the words echoing in my head.
My third bag is quickly heading towards me. At least I think that's my bag. Did it fall in the mud? Gosh, did it get run over by those happy luggage cart drivers I always see outside my window? I reach out with both hands to pick up the bag as carefully as possible. No further dammage, please. This was my favorite piece of luggage. I tenderly set it down to join the first two. Checking the tag, I see: "Spirituality. Abused."
Turning back to the baggage claim, I see my last two pieces coming together. Grasping them quickly, I relax. Nothing lost this time. Just to be safe, I check the tags: "Loneliness. You only know the social rules for fundamentalism." and "Family. We're ashamed of you."
I can't handle unpacking tonight. Tomorrow's another day.