Everything about this hutch personifies my life! My current life, the one I have been consciously and passionately working on since July 16, 2016. This is a part of (my) learning how to honor and appreciate myself (from the book of Fit from Within by Victoria Moran). This is it. I feel like I am pretty messy in thought and in action. I feel all of this weight at times, as I have a very difficult time compartmentalizing. This is me compartmentalizing:
Even my attempts to compartmentalize have been chaotic. I am looking at my hutch (in real) as I am writing and making the connection between its disaster and the one I call my life. I can honestly chuckle at myself, as I accept who I am, I do find myself humorous in many ways. Like the top of my hutch is covered in things I don’t know what to do with. I did not decorate it that way on purpose- that is just where that shit landed. I actually hate it but I walk by it 100 times a day and do nothing to change it (mmmm…. sounds like a connection!). There are even two things behind the fake flora and tin man, and I have NO IDEA what they are, not a clue. Yet they are there.
I scan down the two top shelves and I see stuff that I am so going to use one day, maybe. Not. And I see things that I have no idea why they are not displayed out with the people. For cripes sake I see cords to electronics I don’t even own anymore and if I do and I find them they are digital dinosaurs and extinct at this point. I keep this, why? Good, I know I am lazy but there must be more to this hoarding, this holding on. I have three brand new boxes of golf balls here, how many are in my bag? After this season, none, I have none- what golfer has NONE? Not a dedicated golfer (and I want to be a dedicated golfer). All these balls should be in my bag and not sitting on a shelf collecting dust. I have Gorilla Glue on this shelf, along with birth certificates and letters I received in response to letters I wrote to State Representative Mary Ann Carson and Chris Murphy and from Senator Andrew Roraback and Hillary, all in 2007. Of course I have a jar of colored stones, actually I have two… like everyone, right? What is with this combination? I am afraid to look lower to the next rack of weirdness I hold on to.
My next find? Wow, a small life insurance policy my parents took out on me, it is dated September 11, 1967. The height and weight listed on my policy says 1′ 8″ and 10 pounds respectively. I am finding this hysterical for some unknown reason! Really, why is this here? I believe I have already cashed this baby in a LONG time ago. Or it absolved. I don’t even remember. Accompanying this is a box of 72 wooden pencils, some electrical tape that I am sure is almost as old as the insurance policy (with lint attached and all), and ethernet cords. Yes, ethernet cordS, with an s. Throw in some invisible tab pockets for a binder (a binder, ha ha ha) and a couple of never opened oil based Sharpie paint pens (etc….) and you have all you need to survive ….. NOTHING! When we do have our Zombie Apocalypse I will have all the glue sticks, stock card embellishments, brass fasteners, SD cards, and recipe cards from Plated to fend them off so I can prepare to bludgeon them with a hard whack from a never used Soda Stream machine and a pile of craft stones. For that I am prepared!
I, of course, have insurmountable stacks of paper, and we call ourselves the paperless society, HA! I have Smith Barney statements dated back to 2010, why? Everything I need is ONLINE. Okay, each year, when I do shed the crap from this hutch (yes I do this yearly and the electrical tape and 1967 insurance policy always make the cut), I say I will shred this someday and leave it there. I HAVE A FIRE PLACE, HELLO! This is now making me feel stupid. My laughing is abating. Because really this is how I have been conducting my life. I hold on to SHIT. I have been working really hard on letting go of guilt and shame. Guilt and shame I do not believe really were mine to own. Not all of it, and some of the guilt and shame that is mine I am learning is not mine alone. I have, at times, willingly taken full responsibility for shared stupidity. I think I stick it all in this hutch. Even with the year after year of purging this hutch, I let it pile up again and again (mmm….another connection?!). Here I am in 2018 and the hutch is full, I did not even clean it out this summer. Summer time is the usual purge time- it came and went and I kept all of this stuff tucked away. All of it, apparently too good to withstand an annual purge.
I can’t help but wonder if I am holding on to it because it is a bizarre type of safety net. I have done some of my best work in therapy since this past spring to this present time. Was it too hard to tackle and do the difficult verbal (saying stuff out loud makes it real, and you can’t ignore it anymore) work at the same time? I think so. This hutch is me!
Well I am feeling more confident, and “awoken” this morning. I am not religious and spirituality is fairly new for me, so when I say “awoken” I mean like I am ready to move on to another phase of myself, on this journey I am on. And it does come from within, and on it’s own time table. I am feeling ready to move on. So today, while I do not have a magic wand to sort my life out into neat little understandable piles and be rid of all unnecessary items that will get me to my self actualization in one wave of that wand, I CAN clean out this hutch. I can use this activity as a cathartic experience. It will allow me time to be mindful (I am working on mindfulness, the serious kind, Buddha and all), to practice mindfulness by thinking about what cleaning this hutch out actually means for me.
Watch out, the world may be one less role of old electrical tape away from it’s sanity!