I bought a new purse today. This was necessary because I noticed (while in the bathroom at some airport last weekend) that my current purse was about to become separated from its strap. I got to spend a few minutes today transferring my belongings from one purse to the other.
I like smaller purses. I will fill up available space. If I don’t want to be carrying 25 lbs of junk with me I need a small purse. Even so I found myself wondering why I had 6 pens in my purse. Is that necessary if I didn’t even know they existed? I’m sure if someone asked me for a pen I would have said, “Let me look, I might have one in here somewhere…” But there is a joy in having a fresh start even in something as simple as a new purse.
I’m thinking about this on a grander scale too. I got a call today from the ex saying that the person who built our house is interested in trying to sell it for us. I’m not sure from the message if that means that he wants to be the real estate agent or if he wants to buy it back and then sell it. If he wants to buy it back that may mean that I’m soon doing the purse-clean out on a life sized scale.
I don’t like stuff. Somehow though I’ve accumulated scads of it. I’m sure I have less than other people but it is still scads when you are considering that all needs to be moved elsewhere. I’m overwhelmed by the thought but at the same time it is sort of exciting. Most of it will be donated (or trashed if it is beyond hope). It is a chance for a fresh start with a clean slate. Do I really need this? will be the question of the moment.
But on yet another hand I’ve had a few breakdowns over my stuff. That shocked me. I consider myself anti-materialistic but the idea of letting go can scare me to death. Here’s my thinking. When the time comes I’m moving in with the SO. He has most of the necessities of life. His necessities of life tend to be of higher quality and in better shape than mine that tend to be other people’s cast-offs or stuff I could afford when I had less money. Therefore it is logical to use his stuff when there is a duplication. But my non-logical part of my head starts screaming, “But it is mine!” Then the logical side chimes in with, “Wow, if you leave him and need to replace stuff like dishes and couches that’s going to be expensive. Maybe you should store some stuff as an emergency backup.”
Now the dishes in question are cheap and the couches are ripped so badly that I keep an old comforter permanently over the seat cushions. This is not about the high value of the furnishings. I could probably pick up better quality stuff at a thrift store. I think it is just the fear talking. Fear of the unknown. Fear of surrendering even a fraction of control of my life again. Fear of opening myself up to be hurt again. The realization that the life I thought I was building is really gone and even though I don’t want it back, it still can hurt sometimes.
Hopefully at the end of this I’ll have that new purse feeling. Lighter, cleaner, organized – all the debris that you thought you couldn’t live without cleared away because you couldn’t figure out why you were hanging on to it anyway.