All this stuff. In my life. Weighing me down. The baggage, physical, mental and emotional. It’s everywhere. I am not a hoarder…maybe in the ground stages. I have too much stuff and a ridicules attachment to the useless. Oh, it may have served a purpose at one time, or at a time I thought would come.
I am sure there is some mental health issue connected to my need to hang on to useless stuff, probably all rooted back to that core issue of abandonment. I spent years fucked up on chemicals trying to run from it, stints in rehab, years on a shrink’s couch trying to identify and figure it out.
And now, I realize: Get rid of the useless stuff!
Yesterday I went into my basement storage unit and opened each box, deemed it: trash, donate or save.
Somethings were easy to distinguish, others I set in one pile then went back and moved into trash or donate piles.
I reduced what was in the storage unit by half. And it was nice to load up the vehicle and just cart it all away to donation and take the rest to a dumpster.
The more difficult aspects this concept is the emotional and mental clutter I have. For years I have clung to one, not wanting to let go. Realizing that the emotions would never be returned, yet thinking there could be a friendship, for at one time there was this intensity. I placed a overwhelming amount of energy into this secret scene that was once shared. A 23 year overwhelming amount of energy.
So I recently let it go. Turned my back on the whole thing. I feel odd. It feels strange.
I have to just trust…that by cleaning up my physical and emotional house that once the useless stuff is gone, things will be lighter.
But I feel odd. It feels strange. The fear of change is less painful than the pain of staying where I am.