Thoughts of surrender

I carry around all these bags all the time. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You’re not good enough. You’re ridiculous. You’re pathetic. Silliness I can’t seem to just put down and walk away from. Somewhere in my 40s, I finally started noticing how smothered I was. Started getting this idea that I didn’t have to be wonderful or beautiful or special to enjoy being alive. I don’t think I’ll ever be traveling light, but those moments feel like a surrender to acceptance. I live more truly and deeply and loudly in those moments than I did for decades of my life. Nothing monumental outside the halls of my own brain.