Goodbye to all that
This is harder than it looks, and it looked pretty hard to begin with.
I've managed to empty and take down two of the shelves behind my bedroom door. The porch is piling up with giveaways for the Vietnam Veterans of America. I had to take a break.
The slice I'm trying to clear is filled with the fossilized remains of a number of things I've poured my heart into in the past. I think I understand why getting rid of the evidence is so draining.
It's because almost everything behind that door represents a failure. The Perfect Bead Box, the beautiful product I designed but couldn't get to market. The sewing patterns (and much of the fabric) for a gorgeous wardrobe that I really didn't have the focus or skill to create. The books and supplies and beautiful little tools of silversmithing, which I loved but, when all was said and done, really didn't have the passion to pursue. The training manuals and notebooks from the hypnotherapy courses that fascinated me so much a few years ago.
Why would I not want to jettison all these reminders of my unfulfilled past? What kind of extra credit do I expect from hanging on to them? Do I think maybe I'll take up any of those activities again?
It's time to stop kidding myself. I gave myself over completely to each and every one of them in its turn, conquered each to the limits of my attention span, and then lost interest and set down the tools. I don't think I was ready to accept that simple truth of my nature until just this minute.
So, goodbye to all that. It's leaving my house today.
I've managed to empty and take down two of the shelves behind my bedroom door. The porch is piling up with giveaways for the Vietnam Veterans of America. I had to take a break.
The slice I'm trying to clear is filled with the fossilized remains of a number of things I've poured my heart into in the past. I think I understand why getting rid of the evidence is so draining.
It's because almost everything behind that door represents a failure. The Perfect Bead Box, the beautiful product I designed but couldn't get to market. The sewing patterns (and much of the fabric) for a gorgeous wardrobe that I really didn't have the focus or skill to create. The books and supplies and beautiful little tools of silversmithing, which I loved but, when all was said and done, really didn't have the passion to pursue. The training manuals and notebooks from the hypnotherapy courses that fascinated me so much a few years ago.
Why would I not want to jettison all these reminders of my unfulfilled past? What kind of extra credit do I expect from hanging on to them? Do I think maybe I'll take up any of those activities again?
It's time to stop kidding myself. I gave myself over completely to each and every one of them in its turn, conquered each to the limits of my attention span, and then lost interest and set down the tools. I don't think I was ready to accept that simple truth of my nature until just this minute.
So, goodbye to all that. It's leaving my house today.