Do you know how much stuff you actually have???
I do. I can quantify it by saying I have way too much stuff. Since college, I've moved a total of 13 times. THIRTEEN times! And I've never even been a part of the military - or been transferred for a job!!! I've carted my stuff around from apartment to apartment. I moved home twice. I went from New Jersey to Atlanta and back again in less than a year. I even moved to the townhouse next door to the one I was living in because my roommate was impossible and mean to my dog! Each and every time I move, I spend days and days packing up the same picture frames, the fun, eclectic tchochkes, and the books. Oh, the books! I love my books like cherished friends, and I feel all warm and fuzzy each time they reemerge from their boxes. I've filled up giant trucks and enlisted armies of friends, and every time, every time, people say to me, "Is all this stuff yours? Man, you've got a lot of stuff!"
How did I get all this stuff, and why have I made my life miserable by dragging it from place to place all these years? It's as if it just snuck in through an unlocked window one day and stayed very still until I decided it had always belonged to me.
Okay, okay, I know my stuff didn't sneak in a window. I know how I got a lot of it - I engaged in what we now call "retail therapy" I convinced myself I needed the Hawaiian print sneakers and the purple patent leather loafers because one can never have enough pairs of cute shoes! Many things are gifts, and giving away gifts would be akin to turning my back on those friends who gave them to me. And as for the books? I...just...LOVE...books!!! I have art books and great literature and trashy mysteries and fine kiddie lit (I am a teacher after all) and a book of MASH trivia and a collection of gardening how-tos and even a handwriting analysis book! I keep giving away books, and yet I get them as gifts (my favorite kind of gift!) or I find something I need, reallyreallyreally NEED, like the book I bought a few months ago about how to get rid of all your clutter. It was somewhat helpful, but is currently cluttering the space on one of my many bookshelves.
We all do this - buy more than we need, shop sometimes for fun or to cheer ourselves up, get something fun just for the heck of it - and before we know it, our spaces are full and our things are a burden instead of a joy.
I realize that it is not exactly news that we Americans are a consumer culture and we buy stuff simply because we can. But what happens to your sense of self when you have to sell or give away almost all of your things, as we are doing now? I'll tell you how I felt when I realized that was just what I had to do - I was terrified. It was unthinkable really. I have collected things I love and things I like over the years with hard-earned money, and my things make me happy. I used to say that they reminded me of who I am. But this experience of having to liquidate our lives has made me stop and reevaluate that thought. Am I my things? Do my things make me who I am? Why am I constantly looking outside of myself to find ways to bring me pleasure? Will amassing enough books lead me to nirvana? And will letting it all go make me lose an essential part of myself?
I've talked here before about being poor and not being able to buy new things, and how difficult that was sometimes. But the truth is, I still had plenty of stuff, so it wasn't all that hard once I got used to it. Now, however, J. and I have to get rid of most of what we've been carting around all these years too. Lest you think that I am the only pack rat in my little family, you should know that J. has a great love of tools. Mechanics tools, building tools, finesse tools, this boy has them all, and uses them on a regular basis. He prides himself on his fine collection, having hand-picked each one. Two days ago, he sold his complete set of mechanics tools to his nephew for a fraction of its value. When the set was gone, he was a bit emotional. He had dreamed of opening his own auto shop when he was a teenager, and even though he chose not to pursue that dream, letting go of his tools meant letting go of his dream. Heavy stuff!
J. and I are having our big Moving Sale in one day, and we hope to empty out a good portion of the things in our house. Hopefully we'll be left with very little furniture, a small set of dishes and cookware, and yes, a few tools and books. Intellectually I know that losing the things I've held onto and treasured for so long is the only thing for me to do, but it terrifies me because I feel like I'll be exposed, like I won't have all that stuff to hide behind or protect myself with. But in truth, having things hasn't led me to happiness, and of course I know that my things are not me. One of the best years of my life was the one I spent in Israel, when all I had were two small suitcases. I had the barest of wardrobes, but clothes mattered so little when every day was full of new and thrilling experiences. That is what I wish for J. and I. We have new dreams to seek, and thrilling experiences to find. We'll be living in close quarters in an RV, and we won't have room for a lot of stuff, but we'll be in a new, beautiful place, meeting new people and doing new jobs. Why would I want to hide behind a mountain of books?
Plus, we're bringing our bikes and our kayaks with us. Those aren't going anywhere! We'll need them to explore New Mexico! I picture us kayaking down the Rio Grande River (in a section with mild rapids) and I know that in that moment I'm not going to be missing my purple patent leather loafers.
And at least I can breathe a sigh of relief that, for now, I won't be featured on "Hoarders"!
Wish us luck for the Sale - it'll be hard if a lot of people come and buy up all our things, and it'll be hard if no one comes and our beautiful things could be thrown away. I'll just keep telling myself that life is not about things, and I don't need to hide. Then we can get busy living, and when we do move into a place of our own, no one is going to say, "Wow, you have SO much stuff!"
By the way - does anyone want a size 10 pair of purple loafers?
