I love my stuff.
I love my old stuff.
I love the memories it triggers. I've been journaling since I was about 12. I love reading about thoughts I had when I was younger. And I love the smells and sounds of my childhood. Coupled with touching an item, it's almost as if I'm magically transformed back to that time, a fly on the wall observing my youth. Everything seems happy, joyful, and full of great potential.
I was on the drill team in middle school, and I have two pendants to show for it, and a bell we put on our Keds shoes when we marched in the Christmas parade.
I'm also a storyteller. So a lot of times, holding onto these items is like my way of keeping the props I can use to tell my kids these elaborate stories about Mommy's life growing up.
So when I finished Marie Kondo's book, The Magical Art of Tidying Up, it hit me hard.
I am not letting go of my past. She advises someone with my sort of "background" so to speak, to touch the item, be thankful for the good memories it brought you, and say your farewell.
Farewell is so harsh. Can't we just say see you later?
But then reality hits. Do you want to be surrounded with STUFF of the past, or live in the present, creating new memories?
I'm taking pictures, I'm blogging, I'm doing everything I can to preserve the moments I live. Even when I tell my husband about the day's happenings, I wonder if I should write it down before I forget. It's not uncommon for older moms to say, they remember being a mother, but they don't remember the details. They remember it was hard, but they don't remember why particularly. I don't want to be that mom. I'm sorry! I don't! I want to remember. I want to hold on! I want to preserve those keepsakes.
I was anti Marie Kondo a few days after reading her book, trying to digest it all and make sense of how this would apply to my own life. I resented her. I hated that everyone loved her ideas and philosophy so much. It's just a cult, I told myself. A phase, I told myself. It's not me, I told myself.
And then I decided to give it a try. What was the worst that could happen (besides losing all my precious memories, you ask?!)
I started with jewelry. In the past, I've gone through deciding what to get rid of. This time, I took her approach and advice and started with what I wanted to keep. I picked up every single piece of my jewelry, including items from pre 2000s (yikes, hoarder I told you!) and touched it. Thought of the good times it brought me, laughed, chuckled, sat in silence reminiscing of the good ol' days. I was so young. So thin! So naive. The whole world ahead of me. No kids. No husband. No job. No clue.
And then you know what I did? I put it in a "discard" pile. I couldn't believe it. What was I doing? I was not a Marie Kondo fangirl! I was probably the antithesis of a minimalist. But there I was... not really in my body, an out of body experience where I was sort of like a zombie, doing what I knew would bring me joy (eventually).
A few hours later, a huge pile of jewelry later, and a nice display of what I wanted to keep and what I actually use, I stepped back to take a peek.
Well son of a gun.
That Marie was right.
Shoot.
I had a sudden paradigm shift. I suddenly couldn't wait to tackle the entire house.
What the heck have I gotten myself into?!
Does this mean I have to stop hoarding?
Jewelry done. Paper work next.
