When Your Baggage has Baggage
Scripture: “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” – Psalm 147:3
Let’s talk about wounds. Not the kind you put a Band-Aid on, but the kind that show up uninvited at dinner parties and family gatherings.
I had the privilege of spending time with Tom’s family all together after the death of his/their father last year. Truth – they did not know me. Nor did I know them.
Sadly, this death happened simultaneously with the miscarriage Layne and JT experienced, so it was a lot to process emotionally, socially, spiritually – the whole shebang.
I wasn’t “my best self.” Remember me referencing my “hypervigilance?”
I had convinced myself that Tom’s sister and sister-in-law hated me. I was “the outsider.”
(Note – there was absolutely no foundation for this conclusion. It was my lovely baggage.”
As we were getting ready to go out to dinner that evening, I decided that combing my hair and applying makeup would perhaps help the overall “presentation.”
Tom had no clue where I’d gone, I heard him ask if anyone knew where I was, and his brother innocently called out, . . . . “Hey, Princess? Going to be ready soon?” (or something like that . . . I don’t remember the exact words).
PRINCESS???? Are they in there calling me a princess? I am anything BUT a princess!!! How dare they?
So off we went to dinner and I was completely butt-hurt. (Tom’s phrase. I have no idea what it means).
Tom’s brother is not one to ignore the tension . . . .”What’s up w/ you?”
And I explained that it hurt my feelings. Which gave Tom a great window to share with them how I have a LOT of feelings for their very German family.
Wiest says our deepest wounds become our favorite coping mechanisms. Like how I developed the ability to read a room before I could read a book. Or how I can spot incoming relationship drama from approximately 47 miles away.
(My therapist calls this hypervigilance. I call it my superpower. We’re still debating.)
The Sacred Scar Here’s the thing about wounds – they’re not just about what hurt us. They’re about how we learned to survive. Wiest says we aren’t broken, we’re “breakthrough-ing.”
(Although sometimes it feels more like “break-down-ing.”)
Like how I automatically assume silence means someone’s mad at me. Or how I overfunction in relationships because somewhere along the line I learned that being needed meant being loved.
The Generational Guest List Ever notice how some of our wounds came with a family membership? Wiest talks about having to “parent ourselves through what our parents couldn’t parent us through.”
The Family Tree of Fear
Think about how some wounds get passed down like weird family heirlooms nobody asked for. In my world it looked like:
Generation 1: “Don’t show weakness”
Generation 2: “Don’t ask for help. You are ok.”
Generation 3: Me, funding my therapist’s retirement plan
The Sacred Shift
Wiest says healing happens when we learn to parent our own wounds. It’s like being both the hurt child and the healing adult at the same time.
Sometimes this looks like:
– Letting myself need people (scary)
– Setting boundaries (scarier)
– Admitting when I’m not okay (scariest)
– Actually feeling my feelings instead of organizing them into color-coded spreadsheets
Reflection Questions:
- What’s your favorite coping mechanism? (No judgment – mine is control)
- What wound taught you to need it?
- What would healing look like?
Prayer: God of healing, thank you for making beauty from brokenness. Help me see my wounds not as weaknesses but as places where your light gets in. And maybe give me the courage to let go of some coping mechanisms that don’t serve me anymore? (Except coffee. Coffee stays.) Amen.
Action Steps:
– Name one wound that’s running the show
– Notice when your coping mechanisms kick in
– Practice sitting with discomfort instead of fixing it
– Find someone safe to share your story with
– Thank your wounds for protecting you, then ask if they’re ready to retire
Closing Thought: Your wounds are not character flaws – they’re survival stories. And maybe, just maybe, they’re ready to become wisdom instead of walls.
Truth – after being called a “Princess” it opened up great dialogue with Tom’s brother/wife and myself.
They didn’t “hate” me, they thought I didn’t want to be around them. And my feeling like an outsider? Back to that middle school lunchroom drama baggage.
Now, I have a fondness for them I never knew one could have for “family.” (Remember, I’m an only child). Having them in my life makes my life better, richer, more full. And he’s in my phone as, “Ray The Princess.”
That took honesty. Openness. And owning one’s feelings.
Maybe try that today!