I have been reading a book called The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing by Marie Kondo. I saw it on a table at Barnes and Noble and felt like I needed it. It is a very easy, uncluttered sort of a read. Very simple, very organized, a nice sized book that feels good in my hands.
My home is not super cluttered. I don't think I'm a hoarder or anything like that. But, I know I have too much stuff. I have room for the stuff, which is part of the problem. Sort of. I have a small attic space and I have a pretty big unfinished basement that is sort of like the Hades of the house. Things get thrown down there and they pile up, they spill over, they spread out, they get dusty and then moldy. Those are mostly things we "might need". Sort of. I don't think I actually need any of this stuff. Besides the roof and walls and all those good basic things. So much of what I have is extra. So much of it is over-abundance. I am not complaining. But I am feeling a need to let some of it go.
It is strange that part of what comes with the over-abundance is the guilt. I have so much, some people have so little, I have a hard time throwing anything away. I donate lots of things. Constantly. I fill bags with stuff and then I put them in my car. I wait until it's night time and I drive by the little town thrift stores in town and leave them outside the door. Afraid if I ask them to take my things they'll say no. I hand off my guilt to them. If they throw anything out, they are the ones who have to sleep at night knowing they added to the mountain at the dump. The dump. I've never been but I want to go. The dump in my mind is an enormous pile of wasted things that greedy thoughtless people have thrown away. Along with some normal waste. But mostly needless waste. I hate wasting things.
I have moved a bunch of times and a bunch of times, I have moved things that I thought I might need, or might do something with. Old wooden frames I inherited from an artist who owned that house in Woodstock before I did. A big old drum my grandfather bought at a yard sale and gave to me. So many tools, left behind by handymen and carpenters like bread crusts and apple cores. I collected them and put them in a drawer. So many nails and screws and hooks. So many houses, so many renovations. Thinking when I am done renovating my house, I will give all that stuff away. But that day never comes.
I grew up in a big house with my mother. When she died, I inherited all of her things and our families things. A lot of it, I was able to part with and a lot of it, I kept. When I moved from my mother's house, I moved so much. Towards the end of the move, I decided to leave a set of metal shelves in the basement and the movers actually cheered.
Some of the things I let go of, I regretted. I think when you're young and you lose someone you love and it is the first time you've ever lost anyone like that, you don't know what you will miss and what you won't. My favorite things I kept of my mother's are the mundane things. Her glasses in her glasses case, her wallet, a rolled up trident wrapper I found in her pocket.
Today, on a wave of tidying that I have begun in my house, I started to sort through my studio. So many art supplies.... sewing, all kinds of painting, oil, acrylic, watercolor, egg tempera, tempera, water based oils, enamels, collage, rug hooking, knitting, crocheting, needle felting, drawing supplies like craypas, pastels, colored pencils, markers, all kinds, erasers, sharpeners, scissors, thread, fabric, yarn, hole punchers and on and on....
In the bottom of an old tin of sewing notions, like zippers and snaps, buckles and fusion tape, I found a Chapstick. I knew right away that it was my mother's and knew that I had saved it because it was hers. I opened the cap and smelled it. It was strawberry and still smelled like a strawberry scented lip balm. A thin, white tubed Chapstick, with SPF 15 and it was used up to the bottom. Pink and small inside.
Now, this book I'm reading, it talks a lot about letting go of the past.
This part of the book is shifting something inside of me. Something that feels really uncomfortable and crumbly. Something old and dry. Like a dried brittle bouquet.
The book talks about holding each item you own and seeing how you feel.
If it gives you pleasure and joy, you can keep it. If it doesn't, you
should discard it. I had thought when I started to read this book, that all of the things I own, I love. That I kept these things because I do love them and care about them and it feels good to have them because they mean something to me.
She talks about throwing out old letters and old photos! And I keep thinking about all of the letters I have in my attic. Somehow I ended up with all of these notebooks that I passed back and forth with friends in high school. Why do I still have them? I think to me, these things are like little portals to another time in my life. I don't know why I have an impulse to hold onto times in my life that are gone. To hold onto who I was then. There's no other way to go back there. I miss those times. I do. I feel like I have had a lot of loss and the only thing I have left of those people I lost are actual things. Maybe holding onto those things doesn't make me any closer to that time. I am not sure.
I have noticed that when I think about the things that I am keeping because "I can't just get rid of them" because they have some sentimental value, it is not with joy. It is with some heart ache. And maybe, just maybe, if I let go of those things, I will let go of some of that heart ache. Terrifying really. It is pretty risky. I am not sure. But I am working on being willing and seeing how that feels.
I held my mother's 19 year old lip balm in my hands and I knew she had held it. She had bought it, she had carried it around in her pocketbook or had it by her bed or in her pocket. She applied it to her lips and her lips smelled like strawberries. It was hers. And sadly, that is the closest I get to going back in time, to being near her.
And I threw it away. I thought, well, it's just 19 year old lip balm. It doesn't actually bring me closer to my mom. I did not even remember that I had it, I will not miss it. I have other things of hers that are better than old lip balm. It's okay to throw it out.
That was six hours ago. For a few hours I have been thinking about that lip balm and wishing I had kept it. How could I just throw that out? Isn't it something? Isn't it still better than nothing? I felt pangs of regret. I mulled it over. Already in the garbage. I'm not going through the garbage to get a 19 year old lip balm. I won't.
And just now I remembered the garbage bag I put it in was actually right here. And the only other thing in it was some old sweater sleeves. Yes, old sweater sleeves. Just the sleeves. So I took the lip balm out. And now it is on my desk. I thought if I had saved it, I would have put it with her old wallet and that would be okay. To have a little collection all together of her things. That would feel alright for now. But now, with it back in my hands, my heart feels heavy.
I guess one will be more painful than the other, the burden of keeping these things verses the letting them go. I am not sure which is worse. I think about what it would feel like to have none of these things. Would I feel freed or would I feel more lost? These objects are like little anchors. If I let them all go, I will float off and maybe that will be for the best. Maybe it will set me free to go to new places and move forward. Maybe being anchored is not the best thing. Or maybe I will be like an astronaut untethered in out space forever. With no lip balm.
I suppose, my current life is full of it's own anchors and foot holds. If I were a friend of mine, I would say, "Let it all go! You'll be free! Who knows how these things hold you back and the only way to find out is to let them go. Be fearless."
You be fearless. I'm keeping my dead mother's old lip balm another day.
But still, everything in my house looks different to me now. I am aware of how uncomfortable these things feel when I think about them or see them. Maybe it is just a matter of time before I am really sure that discarding these things is fine and feels just right. I count this new view I have of my belongings as huge progress. Quite astonishing to me, actually.
It is one thing to have your own history but to carry your parents and grandparents history is a lot. It just is. Do you know, I have my grandmother's journals AND my mother's journals AND my journals? And I have thought, how great is that? I should DO something with these journals. Edit and combine them. Match up the days and have all three entries together, at the same age or the same date. Make it a novel. They are all sitting in boxes. How do you get rid of something like that? I don't know. That's why I haven't. Doesn't seem right.
Do you know what else? I have my mother's brass bed frame. A bed frame that my parents bought when they were married and young at a place in Long Island. I think it was in Valley Stream. A place that you could sit and have tea and also buy antiques. If I thought about it long enough, I am sure I would come up with the name of the place. Tiffinannie's. That didn't take long.
Full sized bed, which explains the divorce if you ask me. I could never sleep in a bed smaller than a King with anyone. I was conceived in this bed and also, my mother died in this bed. So I have it. Where is it? The only place it would fit where it wouldn't get ruined; lying flat, under my own king sized bed. I have thought if I get rid of it, I would regret it. And I just might. But, I have just started to think, maybe it is time. I do not feel joy when I think of that bed, under my own bed. I would like to have empty space under my bed. Maybe it is time.
I have so many letters from old boyfriends. I was so loved. So nice. Maybe I will mail them all back to my old boyfriends. So they can remember how much they loved me. In case they forgot.
It is time to let some of those sandbags go. Maybe a little at a time is fine. I do want to feel lighter. I don't want anything I don't love. I am finding the whole process sort of fascinating. I am impressed, surprised, confused, excited and scared.
I am so curious to see how it will unfold. And what will be left behind.
