If you’ve ever traveled with me, let me stay in your home, road tripped with me or carpooled to work you know the truth about me.

I am a bag-aholic.

Every morning is like packing for the apocalypse.

Gym Bag. Lunch Bag. Purse. Computer Bag. Recycling bag. Bag for my bags..

The struggle is real.

I was first informed of my problem by a French speaking African Airport attendant (well at least this is the first time panic caused me to see the reality).

This is me, moving home from Africa, it seems as if I’m moving home with an odd assortment of patterns and colors but cool, calm and collected none the less. But looks can be deceiving. The truth is I was wearing 3 shirts under a knee length african dress, 2 pairs of pants, 3 scarves, a jacket that’s pockets were stuffed to the brim with jewelry (like to the brim…) a water bottle in a convenient carrying bag, a purse stuffed with bare necessities. A backpack that weighed 30lbs which secretly hid yards and yards of fabric and a pillow all sealed up in a plastic bag between itself and my back…And finally what you don’t see is a medium sized duffle carrying all the most fragile purchases made during my time (for the record I was coming home for Christmas = gifts.) The “little duffel” weighed 40lbs alone.

I am not joking.

I think I had some insecurities about my checked luggage making it home…

The man at security harshly diagnosed me: “C’est tres grave, vous avez trop de chose…”

Translation (not literal, emphasis added): You’re a “bag-a-hoarder-aholic.”

I didn’t really hear him.

I also didn’t hear the 27 people my shoes hit on the way down the bus aisle, or the french lady who carried my 40lb extra extra extra carry-on all the way to Paris for me, I didn’t hear the multiple private screening room security guards (because yes I was chosen every time to get searched), nor did I hear the bus driver asking me to take a seat when I realized I LITERALLY could not sit down, no I didn’t hear anyone.

It was 5am in Paris and I had just chugged the remainder of my water bottle-in-bag when I realized the struggle was real. I had a problem, my bladder was about to explode.

I looked around and to my demise there were only 2 people around, one snoring on the floor the other creepily watching me (had been for the last 2 hours) over the top of his book.

I had no other choice. I grabbed my 100+lbs of carry-ons and drug them to the bathroom, hoping the handicap stall was open.

There was no such thing.

I panicked. Like literally began tearing up. I could just barley fit into the stall but I could not turn around. I couldn’t even take off my back pack more or less pull down my 2 layers of pants.

It was there that I had a breakdown and a breakthrough.

I came out of that french pantry sized bathroom weeping as I kicked bags and pulled bags across the airport lobby.

It’s only by God’s grace and multiple people’s strength that I survived.

I swore, NEVER AGAIN!

Enter World Race:

I must have forgotten.

Here I was just a few years later, setting off to spend 11 months in 11 countries. Backpacking around the Globe.

I was so proud of myself, a year’s worth of life in these bags.

Yeah, that pride didn’t last long.

Once we arrived in Romania and I had to carry these 85lbs for 3 miles I was not a happy camper.

Something happens on the World Race, you either become a nomad who gets rid of everything and only has the clothes on his back or you become an extreme hoarder.

It’s safe to say the latter was true for me.

For 11 months I carried and complained, always shedding articles but gaining new treasures.

I even had a chance to remedy my packing situation when I had to leave the field 5 months in for my Mother’s funeral and yet I still returned like this:

I packed less but still came home looking like this:

It’s clear by now that I didn’t learn my lesson and quite frankly I’ve embraced my many bags knowing I’m prepared for any and every situation.

As we prepare to head on our 7 week 7 country trip I have been informed by my very insistent husband that we will be sharing 1 bag!

Did you even read that….ONE BAG.

My carry-on will also be limited to one camera purse/bag/backpack of my choosing.

I thought the struggle was real before, but it’s about to get a whole lot worse.