Next week we are moving from our one bedroom apartment to a two bedroom! You have no idea how exhilarating that is. After 2.5 years in a very small space (15 months of that time shared with a little one), we are so excited to be able to spread out and see floor space! I am really looking forward to re-decorating and I have a lot of plans and projects going on.
As I pack all of our current things up in boxes I am noticing we have a lot of little things that take up unnecessary space. I really don't want clutter or stashing going on in my new, pretty abode so I have been trying to see what we can part with.
I am a pack rat. I don't like to admit that, because I don't completely fit the description, but I am in the sense that I have a very hard time getting rid of something that has a memory. I save everything. You should see the stack of papers that I WILL get into a scrapbook someday. I have saved every movie ticket from each one I have seen in the theater from the time I was 15, including the ones my husband and I have seen. I even write who I went to the movie with on the back. I have a hard time letting things like that go, because I remember every moment when I see those little trinkets again.
I found a bin of cassette tapes under our bed this week (I bet you're saying "you still have tapes?? WHAT?!"), and I was planning on taking them with me, when I realized I don't even own a cassette player. What is the point of saving these tapes when I can't even put them to use? But they hold memories, and I can't throw those away. I found my background instrumental tapes from all of my musical theater auditions as a kid, some home-made tapes of me recording radio shows, and my favorites: my dad's background instrumental tapes from years of singing at church.
Now I haven't told you the story about my father yet, but that will come later, I promise. In short, he was my best friend, and he passed away in 2003 when I was 15 years old. Saving those tapes have the same meaning as my wearing his pajama pants, or keeping his Leatherman in my purse. I wanted to keep the tapes because they had been his. But why? I don't play them. They sit in a box under the bed. And, to be honest, they aren't even my favorite ones that he sang.
So, I decided to let go. It was really difficult to make the action of putting them in the trash. I had to tell myself that throwing them out didn't mean I was cutting any ties with my memories of him or pushing him out of my mind. It was just a step I needed to take in clearing out my physical clutter. I still have the memories of him singing in church, and I can hear his voice as if it was yesterday.
As I push through this last week of packing I hope I can muster up the courage AND the strength to let more things go. I'll let you know how I do!