My name is Barbie and I live in the Pacific Northwest. (The only reasons these two AQs are relevant to Less is Bliss is because as I’m possession-purging and soul-cleansing, I will be faced with Barbie items (Barbie™ as in Barbie’s Malibu Beach House and Pink Convertible.) and the pervasive mold, algae and moss that grow on possessions neglected for very long in the Puget Sound area.
Other than that, I don’t think any other book jacket details are necessary right now.
Aside from 'stats,' I might feel the need to reveal the following...
I have an abnormally strong grip. I can clench like nobody’s business. At some point along the line I thought it would be a good and appropriate life strategy to hang onto everything in my immediate vicinity with the Barbie Death Grip. (Not the ™ Barbie, but the 5 feet tall Barbie typing here.)
I hang onto everything:
- belongings,
- nostalgia,
- ancient wounds,
- pre-school crafts,
- locks of hair,
- perceived social slights,
- occupational atrocities,
- every single photograph I’ve ever taken,
- toxic relationships
- and broken small appliances that will cost more to be repaired than replaced.
I have not the good fortune to possess the natural ability of easily ‘letting go.’
(Even typing the words feels like a breeze of clean air.)
Given this important personal confession, you might be tempted to look the other way. But here are a couple of other important bits to counter the images you could be drawing up in your head of 'what her house must look like...."
- I am not a hoarder. My house is tidy and clean, on most days. Even my closets and drawers. I’m a high-functioning organizer. More on my 3 x 5 card system in another post.
- I do not have that much stuff. You could walk into my house and you would not think that I have a problem. The house I live in is 1600 square feet. Not large. One story, three bedrooms, one and ¾ bath. It’s not that there is so much, but that I’m clutching for dear life to the moderate amount I do own.
- I am not a binge buyer. In fact, for the most part, I do not like shopping. I’ll go months without buying a single article of clothing or some chotskie household object. It’s just that it’s so hard to let go of what I already have.
What I’m dealing with here is not an urgent, intervention-precipitating situation. A person can live their entire life in surroundings such as mine and maybe never even sense the disquiet and unrest involved with ‘hanging on’ to items that no longer serve them. Us. You. Me.
But I can’t. I cannot live this way. I am so acutely aware of the peace of which I’m robbing myself that I have to do something. Something drastic. Something now. (Maybe I’m like the Princess and the Pea. Yeah, that’s it. Maybe I belong to the lineage of the Royal House of Riddance.)
If what I suspect is true, that the ‘thing’ standing between me and my best life are my things, (‘things’ being physical, occupational, emotional, social, recreational, even metaphysical things) then what lies just ahead, on the other side of my ‘clutter,’ will be nothing short of AMAZING. We might not even recognize me after I'm done.
I need to keep this fact in mind each day for when I get bogged down. I need it on a flash card, forearm tattoo or note pinned to my shirt. "Beyond here there be magic."
April 16 & 17, 2010 ~ Away from home for a few days, no purging, weeding or ridding to declare.
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