Packing up my emotions into boxes and storing them away in deep dark recesses is something i’ve become particularly good at over the years.

But that’s normal, we all have a lot of baggage we try our hardest not to carry over into our next relationship; even if (like me) your break ups have been relatively simple, there is always some residue left over – maybe because he once described you as a size bigger than you are (or more embarrassingly, the reverse for men). These things stay with you for a long time.

But emotional baggage isn’t restricted to well, emotions, baggage can also be physical, those physical reminders that you still carry with you – a house, a ring, a box of letters, photos, (or for me, a photo under the bed that the kitten keeps dragging out however many times I hide it) – things you know you should have shredded, thrown away, buried or left behind a long time ago.

Love can die, but be careful, a banana skin is sitting sneakily around the corner, cleverly disguised as a box of letters.

Last night as I began to clear my out my life ready for the move, I found that box of letters, photos, tickets, vip passes, diaries. Then I looked at the engagement ring I still wear and the shoes I wore to that date, and the books he introduced me to and listened to the music that makes me cry and I thought, if I had none of this surrounding me, where would I be now? Who would I be now?

And then I thought that carrying some of this baggage with me is my way of never having to look back; the potential banana skins prove I’m still alive. And that I decided was a good thing. You can move on too much sometimes…

Kx