Having been in the military for 20 years, I have found myself with the stigmatism of being a hoarder. Be it clothes, receipts, paperwork, junk drawers, and old tee shirts that I just MIGHT need one day…I KEEP. ALL. THE. JUNK. I believe this also stems from having gone from living pay check to pay check to well, still living pay check to pay check at the age of nearly 42. What if I ‘need’ that such and such…what if I run out of ‘whatever’…I must. keep. it. ALL. I remember back in the day, taking toilet paper from the gym locker room home because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to afford to buy more…Yes…I was that girl.
But in all honestly, despite bills and debt, I have enough. I can let ‘things’ go…finally.
But it’s hard…I am only human. That pair of earrings I wore in 2002 can be donated…really. That race shirt I earned at a local 5k that never really fit can be given to charity. That cute top I wore in 2006 when my husband commented how pretty I looked, yet it no longer fits can be set aside for my Goodwill donation…really.
BUT. I will keep the dress I wore, over 10 years ago to meet my husband’s plane when he returned from Afghanistan. Sorry hoard police…that one will stay hanging neatly in my closet, collecting well deserved dust. It’s not going anywhere. Some things, I just can’t let go…
I tackled my bedroom tonight. My closet and my dresser are my enemy when it comes to hoarding…am I the only one that couples clothes with memories? Ack, make it stop! After nearly 2 hours I had 1 bag of trash, 1 bag to sell at consignment, and 2 bags of clothes to donate. I felt accomplished. I tied the bags up neatly, and walked away. This is my preemptive strike to move forward in all aspects of my life.
I got my work out in as well, although short in length, I felt I got my ‘swole’ on, LOL
And now, after venting about my long day to my husband, I am listening to Josh Groban, “You raise me up” and am reminded to hold those close to me, who lift me up…Constantly, consistently…and always.
Sweet dreams, gang…
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