Stuff, stuff and more stuff

I feel sick. This is not a physical sickness (unless tiredness counts) but I feel sick of stuff.

As I continue on my redecorating spree I realise how much stuff I have. I am trying to use my own de-cluttering steps and, so far, it is working a treat. However, I do have the occasional pang of “Oh, I shouldn’t give that away because X gave it to me,” or “I’m sure I could find somewhere else to put that object-Y”.

The other day I even got rid of something. I was attached to it in a number of ways (none of them physical as I’m not Spiderman or any other super hero, but I digress) – this thing, this object-Y was a gift and I appreciated receiving it – it suited my home.

Nonetheless, in a rash moment of ‘I-can-do-what-I-said-I would bravado’ I said to an unexpected visitor, “Do you want this?” I retrieved object-Y from where I had lovingly stored it and displayed it to her. She loved it and agreed to take it immediately. When she drove away with it in her car I experienced what can only be described as panic.

What was I doing? Could I really let it go? How would I explain it to X?

I text my recipient and explained my dilemma.

She understood and said she’d return it.

Then, I breathed.

In that moment of breathing I let something go.

The past. My heavy and negative attachment to the past was released. A section of my past story had been like

This time I felt braver so I called my friend and told her that I had made the right decision initially and object-Y was hers to keep.

She laughed at me and said, “Make your mind up!” I laughed along with her as I knew that I had permanently decided to move forward.

“Seriously,” I chortled, “it’s yours. Enjoy it. It’s lovely, but it’s not for me anymore.”

“I know you have a sentimental attachment to it,” she said kindly. (She knows this part of my story.)

“Yeah,” I acknowledged, “but that’s OK. It’s time to let X go now.”

“If you’re sure ...”

“I am. Thanks for understanding,” I still felt sure of my move, “it’s the right thing to do,” I concluded.

And that was it.

Apart from those 5 minutes when I was in total flux everything I have decided to get rid off has gone smoothly.

The things I can’t give to friends will continue to go to the charity shops or to be recycled somehow. There really is no point in me keeping them. They could seriously have become millstones around my neck if I let them. Instead I am enjoying the feeling of rolling freely down the hillside.