Unpacking a lifetime and throwing stuff away - releasing my inner minimalist

Take a look at my home's interior afer I moved my "stuff" from North Carolina. Or, maybe I should say look at what is obstructing the view of said interior.

What is all this stuff?

I originally moved down here with just what I could fit into my car, and it is not a large car. The temporary apartment I bartered to live in while making repairs was two rooms, and contained only a futon plus a desk I rescued from a pile of garbage a block over. My kitchen contained 2 pots, a frying pan, 2 plastic plates and bowls, and 2 plastic glasses, along with silverware for 4, a few knives and other utensils, and some plastic containers for leftovers. In my bathroom? One towel and a bathmat, shampoo, a bar of soap, deodorant, makeup, and a hairbrush. (I did bring my computer, printer, etc. -- hey, I'm not some new age ascetic, for buddha's sake!)

INSERT PSEUDO-SYMPATHETIC MUMBLING FROM THOSE-WHO-THINK-THEY-KNOW-WHAT-IS-BEST-FOR-ME:

"Poor, poor Pete. Has she really come to this? A mere scattering of belongings, not a book to her name, only the clothes on her back?"

One could only hope...

I keep opening boxes and wondering why do I have this, why do I need this, why do I even want it anymore? Most of this I will never use/cook with/read/wear ever again.

I live in a sub-tropical climate. When I lived here 10 years ago, I never wore a coat or jacket. Never. Yet I have moved an entire winter wardrobe, including 3 capes and 2 coats and a zillion knitted scarves. And did I mention the full drawer of socks? Hell, I had already given up pantyhose (moved 7 pair) and, as of two weeks ago, knee high hose as well (moved 21 pair) because I can dress totally casual on my job and I hate wearing any more than is absolutely necessary to keep from scaring the neighbors. You can't wear hose or socks with flipflops or sandals anyway, and they look stupid with clam diggers. Duh.

And what is really scary is that I have almost this much stuff still in storage in Asheville -- Christmas decorations (don't celebrate the shopping season anymore), enough camping equipment for a major expedition (can't get up from the ground anymore, and already sleep with bugs and lizards), my childhood dolls (stop laughing), beads beads and more beads (like I could hit those tiny holes with a needle anymore), even MORE winter clothes, and who knows what else crammed into tubs and boxes and garages and basements and such. And I claim to have been downsizing for the past few years. ARRGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did you feel that scream?

There is so much in life we hold onto white-knuckled with fear. Without this person, this possession, this job, this label, this mask... who are we? All my life I have wrapped myself in the traditional religious and social values with which I was raised. (Oh, get up off the floor and pay attention -- those who REALLY know me are already aware of this, and those of you who THINK you know me are distracting them with your hysterics.) It has been like mummy-wrapping one's self in duct tape, then trying to dance like Isadora Duncan. You feel the music in your soul, but you can't move.

Instead you stand there, bound by your belief that if you just wait long enough, sacrifice enough, and allow the abuse long enough, there will be happily-ever-after in the end. The reality is you just turn into a pinata for those who need to destroy something and still expect sweet rewards to fill their bloodied hands. Years go by. It's time for the happy ending. And it isn't there. Why? Because you need a happy beginning to make a happy ending. And if life doesn't deal you a happy beginning, you gotta break free and happy-dance yourself into an ecstatic do-over.

This time when the sucker-punch left my ears ringing, I got it.

I have witnesses. And affirmation from the powers that be. And some incredible friends who loved me anyway and kicked my butt when it needed kicking and picked me up when I hit the floor again and again and again. And loved me anyway again and again and again. Wow, hard not to be happy after that! And that other stuff I thought was love -- or would be some day? Well, as Keb Mo would sing, "I don't know what that is, but it ain't love."

Don't expect an overnight transformation. Duct tape leaves a sticky residue and it will take time and a lot of spiritual Goo Gone before everything thrown at me just slides right off. But I am learning to like being non-stick as I sort through the remnants of a false life and, bag by bag, get rid of the old to make room for the new. How can you grab fistfuls of joy and love and abundance and wonder if your hands are still clenching the pain and the fear and the disappointment of the past?

My apartment is full, and then some. My life is full, and then some.

So what do I do now?

I get two cats!

But that's next week -- after trash day.

Stay tuned...