Making Room

Originally posted March 3, 2020

“Sometimes we gotta stop and
Take everything in
Make room for my new dreams
Look back on the old scenes” -Angie Stone

Last week marked the beginning of the Lenten season; the period between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Although I’m not particularly religious, I had held onto a few of the Episcopal traditions I grew up with. Some sort of fasting during Lent is one of those.

People typically choose to “give up” tempting food items during Lent. This is actually how I first became a vegetarian. One year, while I was in college, I refrained from eating meat. When Easter rolled around, I realized that I didn’t really miss it. I’ve been relatively meat-free for the past 26 years.

I have, during other years, fasted from chocolate, sodas, cheese, desserts, and other potentially unhealthy treats. As I’ve aged, my food allergies and sensitivities have increased. My diet already feels pretty restricted. Lately, I’ve been giving up nonfood activities like social media or violent TV shows.

Last week, a Facebook friend reposted a 40 days-40 items challenge. For each day during the Lenten season, you’re encouraged to give up, at least, one item. This challenge fits well with this year’s theme of freedom. I want to be free from things, beliefs, and activities that hold me back.

I’m generally pretty good about giving away some things. I shop mostly at thrift stores and my current work dress code is whatever I feel comfortable in and don’t mind getting dirty. So, you won’t find a lot of expensive clothes in my closet that I’m attached to. Unfortunately, you also won’t find many items that bring me joy. I have pants I haven’t worn in two years and, as it turns out, no longer fit. I wear the same jacket daily yet have four. I’ve got fuck-me pumps and boots that get no wear time. At my age, with this weather, people are going to have to find my Target rainboots sexy. I don’t care. I said what I said.

I’m not striving for minimalism. I have and will continue to have things that serve no purpose other than being loved by me. But why do I hold onto things I don’t love? Or even like?

I didn’t really get into the whole Marie Kondo craze. I’m sure she’s a wonderful woman. But her show was boring as hell. And I had no interest in reading her book. Plus, there are cultural, psychological, and generational reasons why people are attached to their belongings.

Some cultural perspectives

Indigenous societies continue to have their land, resources, artifacts, and traditional objects stolen from them and misused by colonizing terrorists. They, rightfully, should fight to keep what remains.
Descendants of enslaved Africans have a history of being denied the right to own anything including themselves. One of the earliest things enslaved Africans sought to buy was their own emancipation. Purchasing power quite literally meant freedom.
Refugees often must leave everything behind when they seek safety in another land. Small mementos of the home and family left behind have great significance.
People who have experienced poverty may have difficulty getting rid of things because of a strong aversion to being wasteful.
Trauma responses and other mental health challenges alter how the brain processes the significance of and attachment to items.

My personal challenges

I’m a former teacher who is the daughter of a former teacher. Teachers save EVERYTHING. Almost anything can be used for crafts, counting, or the sensory table. Teachers also have lots of papers…lesson plans; worksheets; fan (or hate) mail from that student; bug-eyed, four-finger portraits drawn by preschoolers. I have them all.
I’m the oldest child and deemed responsible. So I’ve inherited many antique items and the responsibility of taking care of them.
I have an early (and fuzzy) memory of flushing the toilet or washing my hands when my mom was cleaning the bathroom. She had cleaner soaking and was upset that I “wasted” it. I don’t want to be wasteful.
Side note: Speaking of lack of waste, teachers, Black families, and those who have experienced poverty have reduced, recycled, and reused way before the environmentalist movement. Don’t blame us for climate change.
Finally, I grew up in the 1970s. Homes were…how should I put this…quite visually stimulating. Our kitchen had orange wallpaper and olive green appliances. Our sofa was yellow. I grew up around velvet, beads, macrame, and Princess House crystal. Every end table had bronze baby shoes. I, too, like colorful, multi-textured living spaces. What happens when beauty turns to excess?

The hoarder in me

Some people have friends who talk about the latest romance novel they’ve read. And some people have friends who encourage them to read The Hoarder in You: How to Live a Happier, Healthier, Uncluttered Life. Can you guess the type of friends I have?

So, I’m listening to the audiobook of The Hoarder in You and I’ve learned that hoarding tendencies fall on a spectrum and are related to anxiety. I do not have the type of clutter that impacts my health and safety so I would not be diagnosed with compulsive hoarding disorder. But as I look around my home I see evidence of hoarding tendencies. There are more books than I care to read. Coupons that I will never use. Papers that could have and should have been shredded. A collection of shot glasses I only see when I move into a new home. Feathers and rocks on every surface. Letters that were passed to me in class when I was in high school (pre-texting, kids). Nails, screws, and manuals to things I no longer own. Multiple tabs open on my laptop and bookmarked sites I never return to. You get the picture. None of this is, in and of itself, wrong. But it doesn’t exactly make me happy and, at times, makes me anxious. It is time to let some things go.

Week one of Lent is in the books. So far, my donation pile consists of three tote bags, three watches, two books, four shirts, five pairs of pants, one dress, two pairs of boots, and one pair of shoes. These were all easy to discard. I know it will be more difficult to part with other items. And I will have to learn to keep the hoarding tendencies in check. But I’m up for the challenge. I feel good about making room for new dreams.

Categories: : Wellness