The Stuff I Carry

I have trouble letting go of things. Events, mistakes, insecurities, you name it, I tend to hold onto it.

[Yeah, okay, maybe that's a bit much of a blanket statement. Hyperbole is a perfectly acceptable literary tool that I intend to employ fully.]

Clothes. That's another one I don't like to part with. And papers. Especially papers. So much so that, just the other day, I handed down two dresses to my youngest sister that I haven't been able to fit into in at least three years. So much so that I have to go through the piles of stuff under my bed every summer to throw away things from elementary or middle school to make room for the stuff I've accumulated at college that I might need someday and absolutely must hang onto.

I also have tons and tons of pictures. Surprise! Many of them are of cats.

Now that I have my computer back, I have come to terms with the fact that it is just as much an avenue for hoarding as that hidden space beneath my bed. I have hundreds of sites, pages, images, links bookmarked - because I was inspired, I thought they were funny, I could use them for writing/reading/homework. I never rarely delete them. I have multiple folders of bookmarks labeled some version of "More to Read."

So today, I deleted a bunch of them.

Don't worry. None of the cats were erased.

I'm sure there are still too many by "normal" standards. I'm also sure that I don't, in fact, need most of the stuff that stays tucked under my bed 362 days of the year. I'm okay with that. I understand that I get emotionally attached more to the idea of saving things than the actual things themselves. It takes time for me to process and get rid of things - but the important part is, I do eventually get rid of them. Unless, of course, they really mean something to me, and then I try to find a better place to put them than in an old shoebox or buried between random articles.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire? Are the excess cat pictures the next to go?

Since I'm on the subject already, I can extend this not-throwing-anything-away mindset to my collections. At various points in my life, I have collected coins, figurines, rocks, dreamcatchers, erasers, candles, etc. While I really only collect old coins and dreamcatchers and maybe candles at the moment, I still have all these other things:

• The rocks and erasers are in some jar or drawer or box, along with other things I don't even remember collecting.
• The candles and figurines I have arranged on my shelves at home. There's also room for some books and tons of stuffed animals. Another thing I probably have too many of.
• Dreamcatchers are easy - they lie flat on the walls [except for my 3D one]. 
• My coins are split between a piggy bank and a jewelry box that I may have misplaced.

To be honest, it wasn't until a few years ago that I realized how silly these things were. How I was surrounding myself with possessions that I would lose or not use or were only good for being looked at [or smelled, in the case of candles]. I quit buying figurines - I wasn't even tempted to buy any while I was in Peru. I pushed back the dates on what I considered a "collectible" coin. I started to actually light some of the many candles that I own.

No - I could never get tired of seeing this cuteness!

And you know what? The planets continue to orbit, the sun continues to shine, and I don't feel any differently now than I did before. Incredible, I know. I enjoy the stuff I have, but a lot of it, I know I don't really need. I mean, I have good taste and all, but I want most of my possessions to have more meaning than just being pretty. There's only so much time in the world and, though I hate to say it, it can't all be spent being sentimental or stargazing or shopping.

Or partying. Or CAT-partying. See what I mean about the cute factor?

I have stuff to get done, darn it, and I can't let all my other stuff get in the way of that.

Not even pictures of cats.