My big reorganization continues and I’m still getting rid of stuff and moving other stuff around. It’s made me think a lot, that’s for sure. Sometimes I look at things and think, “Why do I even have this?” Sometimes, I look at something and want to hold onto it, no matter how useless it is to me. Craft supplies are the worst, because there’s always some sort of potential there, even if there really isn’t when you think hard about it.
I have a feeling that I’ve held on to some stuff because of who I was when I bought it. It’s like keeping that thing was keeping a part of who I used to be. Now, I’m starting to realize that I don’t want to hold onto all aspects of my former self, and that makes letting go a bit easier (both literally and metaphorically).
The biggest challenge is dealing with the growing pile of stuff I don’t want. I’m slowly hacking through it, but it’s a process. Garbage and recycling are fairly easy; it’s the clean, working, useful stuff that’s getting to me. It’s all just sitting there by my door, challenging me to do something about it on a daily basis.
One thing I’ve realized is that you can’t even give a lot of stuff away. New stuff is so cheap that we pretty much have a throwaway culture. Unless it’s not that old and there’s a big name attached to it, you’re pretty much expected to toss it and buy something new. That’s more or less what everyone else does, but I hate the waste. I can’t keep everything, but the idea of throwing something perfectly functional in the dumpster makes me cringe.
I’m pretty solid now on my resolve to go on a permanent, lifestyle shopping diet. I think I’ll also add “buy more things used when I need them” to the concept. I have absolutely no interest in doing this whole thing again sometime soon.
The other thing that’s coming up a lot is the fact that I hate change. I don’t hate all change; I like trying new things and going to new places. I really hate change in my personal space though. It leaves me in a really foul mood. Every time I move, I’m in a funk for a good week or two. Even my last move made me feel down, and it was from a hole of a place where the heat broke every winter to my beautiful, current apartment with a rooftop terrace. I guess I’m like a cat. I like things in my home to be the way they are, and when those things change, it feels like someone pulled a rug from under my feet. As I get rid of stuff and move things around, my place is feeling less like my own and more like a strange space that contains all my stuff, but isn’t really mine.
I’ll get used to it, and it will feel like home again soon. I just have to actually get it done and tie up all the loose ends (pile of stuff by the door).
