Familiar weight

I thought I had learned to drop my carpet bag. I thought I had learned what it meant to put it down and walk away. But I find myself returning to it again and again. Its weight is comforting. I don’t know how to walk without it. I was never meant to carry my bag. Someone offered to carry it for me. I don’t know how to give it to Him. I like the weight; the burden is a familiarity. It makes me feel strong, it makes me feel secure, it makes me feel independent, but more than that, it’s all I know. I have the bag’s pattern memorized. I can trace the lines and the stitches in my mind. I know the fabric well. It is my bag, but it is not meant to be. I can’t put it down; I don’t know if I want to, I don’t know if I can. I don’t remember what the freedom feels like. He’s willing to show me. He said He would teach me. But how do I give to Him what I have held onto for so long? The carpet bag isn’t bad, it’s what this unpredictable life has given me; but it is not meant for me to carry…how.do.you.just.drop.it?