Out with the old, in with the new
My life craves a change.
A BIG change. Like nothing I have ever experienced before. And I am determined to make it happen.
In order to welcome the arrival of this much needed change, I have decided that I have a great deal of cleaning to do. Internal cleaning, external cleaning...in my closet, behind my ears, in the corners of my heart, in the crevices of my mind. I desperately need to cleanse my life of negativity, of superficiality, of lavishness, and of apathy.
Out with the old, in with the new. Release the bad, inhale the good. I need to suck out the poison. I need to remove the clutter. I need to make room for what is to come. I need to be renewed, revived. Body, mind, and spirit.
The trouble is, I don't know where to start. I am so severely overwhelmed with how much change I need to make, both within myself and in the world around me, that I can't seem to find the starting line. My life, as it is, is only a shell of what it needs to be. And if I continue living in this manner, it will never be anything more than that. But where do I start? How do I begin?
Well...I suppose in some ways, I already have begun. Although it feels very elementary, I have started by addressing a few of the problem areas in my life and taking baby steps toward a more conscious lifestyle.
For one thing, I blew the dust off of my bike and began riding it to work rather than taking the bus every day. It is better for the environment, for my body, for my spirit, and for my ever-dwindling bank account. I now fully consider the possibility of walking or riding when it comes to transporting myself from one place to another, and driving is used as a last resort. I rarely use my car and I have to say, in all honesty, that I am happier for it. Happy in the down-deep sort of way...not the kind that sits on the surface.
I am also trying to recycle more and increase my awareness about how to do so effectively. I am trying to purchase less things but when I do make purchases, I try to opt for things that use recyclable or even recycled materials and packaging. I only take plastic bags when absolutely necessary and I am collecting them to return to the store to be recycled. These are mere baby steps...but it's a start.
I dug into my closets and drawers and plunged under my bed, surfacing with bags and boxes of excess "stuff" that had accumulated there and remained untouched for who-knows-how-long. And even though I have rid myself of countless items that I don't even recall, let alone miss, there is still plenty of "stuff" that needlessly remains in my possession. The problem: I can't let go.
For some reason, I am attached to these inanimate, unnecessary, useless pieces of clutter. They don't make me happy, they rarely serve a purpose...half the time, I don't even know that they are there. So why do I keep this "stuff"? For one of two reasons: either out of the fear that someday, I will wake up with a dire need that could only be met by that "one thing" (If only I would have kept it!), or because it has some sort of sentimental value that keeps me hanging on for memory's sake. In either case, holding onto them is superfluous. I need to let go of my fear of the future as well as my preoccupation with the past and there is no time like the present.
And so, today I decided to start letting go of the past by confronting something that I have been avoiding for years. Something that I have tried on several occasions to dispose of, but to no avail. It's something that anyone else could easily toss away without a second thought, but I can't seem to part with it.
Hesitantly, I climbed onto a chair and ventured to the top shelf of my closet where there sat a seemingly ordinary shoebox. I brought it down from its haven and ceremonially placed it on my sunlit bed for one final goodbye. Off came the lid and out flowed the memories: some I was prepared for and some that jumped out at me without warning and began gnawing at wounds I'd forgotten were there.
It is my box of memories...our memories. Memories that I can't bear to face but refuse to release...because they are all that is left of us.
You are preserved in the scraps of paper, candy wrappers, and photographs. A time capsule, if you will, of a time that we existed together. And we were happy. Or at least, we seemed to be...in the pictures. I can't quite remember. But we were smiling, so I deduce that we were happy. A younger me and a younger you peer up at me with smug little smiles on their guileless faces and I try to remember what that felt like...that certainty. I pray that I will know it again someday.
Letters...so many letters. Some long, some short...on notebook paper, in cards, on receipts...I kept them all. You always loved to write...you still do...But then, way back then, you wrote about me. When I was worth writing about. And I loved to read what you wrote. I breathed those letters when we were together. I lived for your words. They kept me going. And I believed every one of them.
I think what I'm afraid of is that I will never mean that much to someone ever again, and I will never receive letters like that again, and all of these things that remind me of what I once had, and what I once felt, and what once was felt toward me are all that I will ever have. I am afraid to give that up.
But, it's time to say goodbye.
Goodbye to all of the moments we smiled from ear to ear: at each other, at the camera, and behind each other's backs.
Goodbye to all of the struggles we survived: the doubts, the jealousies, the drugs, the parents.
Goodbye to Slurpees, roses, Dairy Queen, Kennywood, Laffy Taffy, lollipops, Fall Plays, Wendover concerts, Stanwood talent shows, birthday cards, valentines, that time you threw a paper airplane at me, and that time you kidnapped Zeek, that time we were in a band together, and that time I beat you at mini golf, that time you bought me daffodils, and that time you spent Christmas with the crazies, that time you needed me, and that time I needed you, and that time we both simultaneously wanted it to work, and so it did.
Goodbye to our smiling faces in the same camera frame.
Goodbye to flowers that have dried up, graphite that has smudged, and paper that has yellowed.
Goodbye to everything that was and isn't anymore.
Goodbye..for once and for all, after all of this time, after all of these years, through all of the tears, and second chances, and trying agains.
Goodbye.
I considered burning it all. Sticking it all back into the box with some lighter fluid and bringing out the matches. That would be dramatic. And I feel like it should be.
I wanted to have that image...of papers and photos turning to ash and flames devouring all that is left of the once titled "us."
I thought that maybe I could build a ceremonial bonfire and roast hot dogs on it with my friends.
But I don't even like hot dogs. And well, I'm not living in a lifetime movie...so, I just recycled what could be recycled, and tossed the rest in the waste basket.
And though it was hard to do, no other "stuff" I have will be as hard to say goodbye to as that shoebox.
Goodbye "Stuff"!!!
I am ready to purge.
A BIG change. Like nothing I have ever experienced before. And I am determined to make it happen.
In order to welcome the arrival of this much needed change, I have decided that I have a great deal of cleaning to do. Internal cleaning, external cleaning...in my closet, behind my ears, in the corners of my heart, in the crevices of my mind. I desperately need to cleanse my life of negativity, of superficiality, of lavishness, and of apathy.
Out with the old, in with the new. Release the bad, inhale the good. I need to suck out the poison. I need to remove the clutter. I need to make room for what is to come. I need to be renewed, revived. Body, mind, and spirit.
The trouble is, I don't know where to start. I am so severely overwhelmed with how much change I need to make, both within myself and in the world around me, that I can't seem to find the starting line. My life, as it is, is only a shell of what it needs to be. And if I continue living in this manner, it will never be anything more than that. But where do I start? How do I begin?
Well...I suppose in some ways, I already have begun. Although it feels very elementary, I have started by addressing a few of the problem areas in my life and taking baby steps toward a more conscious lifestyle.
For one thing, I blew the dust off of my bike and began riding it to work rather than taking the bus every day. It is better for the environment, for my body, for my spirit, and for my ever-dwindling bank account. I now fully consider the possibility of walking or riding when it comes to transporting myself from one place to another, and driving is used as a last resort. I rarely use my car and I have to say, in all honesty, that I am happier for it. Happy in the down-deep sort of way...not the kind that sits on the surface.
I am also trying to recycle more and increase my awareness about how to do so effectively. I am trying to purchase less things but when I do make purchases, I try to opt for things that use recyclable or even recycled materials and packaging. I only take plastic bags when absolutely necessary and I am collecting them to return to the store to be recycled. These are mere baby steps...but it's a start.
I dug into my closets and drawers and plunged under my bed, surfacing with bags and boxes of excess "stuff" that had accumulated there and remained untouched for who-knows-how-long. And even though I have rid myself of countless items that I don't even recall, let alone miss, there is still plenty of "stuff" that needlessly remains in my possession. The problem: I can't let go.
For some reason, I am attached to these inanimate, unnecessary, useless pieces of clutter. They don't make me happy, they rarely serve a purpose...half the time, I don't even know that they are there. So why do I keep this "stuff"? For one of two reasons: either out of the fear that someday, I will wake up with a dire need that could only be met by that "one thing" (If only I would have kept it!), or because it has some sort of sentimental value that keeps me hanging on for memory's sake. In either case, holding onto them is superfluous. I need to let go of my fear of the future as well as my preoccupation with the past and there is no time like the present.
And so, today I decided to start letting go of the past by confronting something that I have been avoiding for years. Something that I have tried on several occasions to dispose of, but to no avail. It's something that anyone else could easily toss away without a second thought, but I can't seem to part with it.
Hesitantly, I climbed onto a chair and ventured to the top shelf of my closet where there sat a seemingly ordinary shoebox. I brought it down from its haven and ceremonially placed it on my sunlit bed for one final goodbye. Off came the lid and out flowed the memories: some I was prepared for and some that jumped out at me without warning and began gnawing at wounds I'd forgotten were there.
It is my box of memories...our memories. Memories that I can't bear to face but refuse to release...because they are all that is left of us.
You are preserved in the scraps of paper, candy wrappers, and photographs. A time capsule, if you will, of a time that we existed together. And we were happy. Or at least, we seemed to be...in the pictures. I can't quite remember. But we were smiling, so I deduce that we were happy. A younger me and a younger you peer up at me with smug little smiles on their guileless faces and I try to remember what that felt like...that certainty. I pray that I will know it again someday.
Letters...so many letters. Some long, some short...on notebook paper, in cards, on receipts...I kept them all. You always loved to write...you still do...But then, way back then, you wrote about me. When I was worth writing about. And I loved to read what you wrote. I breathed those letters when we were together. I lived for your words. They kept me going. And I believed every one of them.
I think what I'm afraid of is that I will never mean that much to someone ever again, and I will never receive letters like that again, and all of these things that remind me of what I once had, and what I once felt, and what once was felt toward me are all that I will ever have. I am afraid to give that up.
But, it's time to say goodbye.
Goodbye to all of the moments we smiled from ear to ear: at each other, at the camera, and behind each other's backs.
Goodbye to all of the struggles we survived: the doubts, the jealousies, the drugs, the parents.
Goodbye to Slurpees, roses, Dairy Queen, Kennywood, Laffy Taffy, lollipops, Fall Plays, Wendover concerts, Stanwood talent shows, birthday cards, valentines, that time you threw a paper airplane at me, and that time you kidnapped Zeek, that time we were in a band together, and that time I beat you at mini golf, that time you bought me daffodils, and that time you spent Christmas with the crazies, that time you needed me, and that time I needed you, and that time we both simultaneously wanted it to work, and so it did.
Goodbye to our smiling faces in the same camera frame.
Goodbye to flowers that have dried up, graphite that has smudged, and paper that has yellowed.
Goodbye to everything that was and isn't anymore.
Goodbye..for once and for all, after all of this time, after all of these years, through all of the tears, and second chances, and trying agains.
Goodbye.
I considered burning it all. Sticking it all back into the box with some lighter fluid and bringing out the matches. That would be dramatic. And I feel like it should be.
I wanted to have that image...of papers and photos turning to ash and flames devouring all that is left of the once titled "us."
I thought that maybe I could build a ceremonial bonfire and roast hot dogs on it with my friends.
But I don't even like hot dogs. And well, I'm not living in a lifetime movie...so, I just recycled what could be recycled, and tossed the rest in the waste basket.
And though it was hard to do, no other "stuff" I have will be as hard to say goodbye to as that shoebox.
Goodbye "Stuff"!!!
I am ready to purge.