Day 7: Excess baggage (Part 1)

My mother clings to memories of painful moments in her past. And at 97, she has a lot of moments to mull over.

Hurtful remarks from 50 or 60 years ago still sting as if the offender had said them to her only yesterday. I wish she could let those memories go.

I once suggested that she try, in her own good time, to forgive the people who had said those things to her. It didn't work.

I'd like to believe I didn't inherit this tendency. But lately I've noticed that some very old insecurities -- insecurities that caused some pain when I was still a kid -- remain with me.

I'd like to think I've grown up enough to feel secure in my own skin, but I have my weak spots. I can easily be made to feel "not good enough" in the presence of someone who bubbles with confidence or someone who's clearly affluent. At such moments I'm back in my childhood neighborhood feeling as if I didn't measure up to my best friend's rich friends.

And you'd think by now I'd have gotten over the need for approval -- validation, they call it -- from someone other than myself.

But no.

Not yet, anyway.

So I'm making it a goal to let go of this baggage as I work my way through the 358 days before I turn 60. I don't want to start another decade toting all that junk on my back.

Wish me luck.