The last two days, my house has been trashed.
Papers are strewn about, there are open boxes on tables, counters, floors, files open and stacked, from room to room. It seriously looks like a crazy manic event has gone on here. Maybe it has, I don’t know. I digress.
It started out at a vain attempt to find my seventh grade school picture to compare to the girlchild’s, but it became a self-imposed therapeutic event. As I have been going through boxes of my life, looking at pictures, questioning why I have kept the wrapper for a package of garbage pail kids for 25+ years; I have been processing. Letting go. Thinking about people I haven’t thought about, wondering why I kept things they gave me, notes they wrote. I even wrote a poem about it.
Dealing with things left undealt with in a millenia. It’s like the end of my own episode of ‘Hoarders’.…keep, sell, trash….keep, sell, trash...Only mine is keep, share or trash….It’s been cathartic to say the least.
Now my house is still beyond trashed and I am sure that my half unpacked and sorted boxes are pretty physically representative of my brain these days. BUT I have also began to delete, resort and annihilate my narcissistic self-representation I call my Facebook, so it’s been multitaskinspirationalistic. And really, if you know me, I function soooo much better with 8923470387304750345 things to do. Don’t let me get bored. I will think of a reason to save a wrapper.
Throwing things away feels good.
Sharing forgotten and remembered memories for that matter feels good.
It’s been a long time coming, this unpacking of Jani.
You should try it; throw something away from your childhood.
Look at it. Hold it. Share it. Remember and then toss it.
Why do you keep what you keep?
They’re only things, after all.
I dealt with things better once upon a time and I am trying to relearn that now.