Once, long ago, I was told that the best way of dealing with something is to get it out into the open and allow it its chance to breathe. There are many things in my life which still remain stifled. They’re allowed the odd grasp of air, the odd shaft of sunlight, but eventually they’re stuffed and stifled, hidden from view and mind again and never truly dealt with.

A post that recently appeared on my feed prompted a bit of inward reflection, and I realised that I am notorious for this myself, this being an apologist for everything. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, though it’s caused as much drama as its quelled; one of the tings I find myself apologising for most, be it to others or myself, is the baggage I’ve carried for a very large portion of my life.

Baggage rears its ugly head at the worst possible times. I recently had a not-so-minor breakdown that nearly (read: should have, but I’m awefully well equipped to quash such instances) left me in tears. Everyone has it. I typically warn people before they become too involved, ‘hey, man, just a heads-up: I have some major baggage’.

Most assure me they can handle it, until they have to…