A few weeks ago, I mentioned to RM#1 that I could no longer continue to pay to have my stuff in storage. I have made so many cuts over the last year, and this is the last thing I have to draw from. She agreed that I could bring my stuff home and keep it in the garage. Her and I had never had a conversation about me keeping my stuff here before. I had always just been polite enough to respect her OCD for cleanliness and neatness, that I rented a storage place to keep my mess out of her clean. She was quite shocked I was paying so much for what I actually had in there.
BFF@work helped me moved stuff out of storage last week, and it’s just been sitting messily in our garage ever since. So, here I sit, surrounded by a whole bunch of “stuff” that I’ve accumulated over the years. Stuff that up until now, I’ve been afraid to part with. I don’t know why I’ve been holding onto this stuff for all these years.
As I sort through the boxes, I’m reminded of familiar faces. Faces that remind me that I once had no responsibilities. Nobody to worry about except for me. Nobody to answer to as long as I kept on the straight path. Once I got to the boxes that contained memories of my marriage, I became quickly shocked at how unhappy I look in all the photos. Was my unhappiness obvious to everyone? I suddenly felt sorry for so many things. I was sorry that I married young. I’m sorry for wasting all of The X’s years with me. I was sorry for bringing a child into the world and not providing him with a perfect mother/father/son relationship. I was sorry for forever changing the lives of two young teenage girls. I was sorry for not believing a select few who tried to steer me into other directions as a teen. I’m sorry for not remembering more details to help the police dept. catch that bastard! I can’t honestly say I regret any of that stuff, but I am sorry for it. Sadly, I tucked those photos back into the album they came from and said this stuff just isn’t me anymore. It’s someone I once was. It doesn’t define who I am today. I don’t need all this stuff!!
And with that, I threw out stuff I no longer needed to hold onto, and I packed up several boxes for Goodwill. I have officially narrowed a two bedroom condo down to a kitchen table w/ six chairs, a wooden rocking chair, and six boxes. And it only took five years. RM#1 is pleased at how little space I take up. The wooden rocking chair has become one of my favorite sitting spots. It’s so awesome. Too bad it has to be in the garage.
One day, I’ll build a home around a grandfather clock and this very wooden rocking chair. Bliss. :-)