BUT I HAVE MORE

My sister once told me that in a sentence that is split by a "BUT", according to research the part before the but is usually a lie. Like:"I am sorry we are late, but we missed the bus."Actually I am not sorry at all it was not important enough for me to leave on time. At first I didn't believe her. I felt the "BUT" had every right to be there. I started watching myself and realized that most of the time the part in front of the "BUT" usually was either just a polite phrase, or something to cushion the blow that was to follow:"I love her dearly BUT she can be a royal pain in the rear!"

I also used to say:"I want to donate these clothe, BUT I have more." I claimed that I couldn't donate anything unless I got it all there in one place to be donated. Tomorrow is another curb pick up for clothes and shoes. I know I have one more pair of shoes I want to donate. Unfortunately I am not sure where the second one is and I am too tired to search for it. Yes, I am sure I have more clothes to donate. This is all I have selected so far and the tiny bag with about 10 items will have to do for today.

I am glad there is no more "BUT". It never got me anywhere.

THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME

I found out what is wrong with me thanks to my fantastic friend Suzu. I know her from the hoarder board and we have so much in common. Our circumstances are as different as could be but our reasons why we keep seem so much alike. And even when our reasoning behind doing something is completely different we get very similar results. It is so refreshing to have some one who not only gets it, but who gets my personal corner of this huge room that is hoarding.

Unfortunately Suzu is to far away to hang out and do things together, so we skype. We try to skype once a week and to this skype sessions we bring things we want to discard. We tell each other why it is hard to throw them out or our reasons for keeping them. We ask each other questions and watch each other discard things. Last session I thought I had nothing to toss. Those sessions have a funny effect on my. When I see something that would be good for the session cause I just can't do this on my own but I think I really should let it go, the second I decide I will bring it to the session, all of a sudden I can let it go.
So last session I said I have nothing. It was the night of the report incident. I told Suzu what had happened. She asked me a few questions. One was like"What do the stand for?" We kept talking. And all of a sudden it hit me. It wasn't about the reports per se. It was about what I used to be. A bright young woman getting an education and excelling at it. A girl who jokingly predicted her future job. A job that shaped me in many ways and which gave me the opportunity to met a set of very unique people , who all were there very own version of wonderful.
We talked about that and once I realized what they represent I know why it was so hard to let go.I also knew that those people still are my friends and that the memories are there and that's when I was able to let go. Yes. Lots of tears, but not over the reports but over all those emotions hidden inside.
I dropped the reports into the recycling bin right there for Suzu to see. And wouldn't you know it. At the end of our conversation she asked me about them again and I had forgotten I tossed them if it hadn't been for her reminder.

Tossing them in the morning cause I felt I needed to do that had brought confusion, feeling stupid and broken and a flood of tears And of course a fresh wave of feeling depressed.
Just 8 hours later letting them go was fine and I felt like I knew myself a little better!

Thanks Suzu!

10.000

10.000 views of this page. I wonder how many of them actually wanted to be here and didn't just end up here by clicking "next blog". Does it matter? No. It doesn't. Blogging helps me clear my head. It helps me sort my worries.

SO. 10.000 hits and I am still a hoarder. Things have improved quite a bit, and yet I still have quite a way to go. Root for me.

AGITATED

The incident with my reports left me agitated for the rest of the day. I was not able to focus on my task. I told James I would clean up the downstairs. It didn't help that James was home an hour early then I expected, but lets face it. It was about feeling insecure and agitated. I made dinner and used the last laurel leafs that came in a plastic container that all of a sudden look like it would be perfect for pencils in my little drawer downstairs. I told myself that is was okay to keep it as I would be tossing the lid but as I looked at the lid I thought:"What if I kept this. The kids could not mess up my pencils when they go through my drawer." Guess what. The kids hardly ever open this drawer. No need to keep the lid. By this time I realized that I was too stressed to throw ANYTHING out at the moment and that the reports were to blame. So I threw the plastic container on the counter top hoping James would get rid of it.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

The abominable pile next to my back is back and it is bigger than ever. One reason being that things have been brought down from the attic, things were picked out of boxes and the boxes eventually ended up next to my bed. Today for the umpteenth time I decided to work on it. I came across a stack of records from way back when I got my education. I had to do lots of internships that were accompanied with lots of reports about those internships. I briefly considered scaning them before I tossed them but decided that would be too much work. I took a quick glance at each of them and decided they can go. One I looked into the second to last one I stumbled across an innocent cheeky line in which I jokingly mentioned that I just might end up in this field of work that I never considered before thanks to this internship. Not only did I end up going that direction, I even returned to work with the same people that guided me through my internship.

All of a sudden I couldn't throw it away anymore. And not only that report but all of them. I picked them out of the waste basket and started  bawling. Seriously. What on earth is wrong with me? 

HAUNTED BY SINGLE SOCKS

Last  night I dreamt that I met up with a child hood friend. I haven't seen him in years. He brought with him some kind of scrap book, with memories written down and the occasional picture. In between the pages where singles socks. sometimes up to 10 per page. Don't ask me how that worked with the extra bulk, but it worked out just fine in my dream. And wouldn't you know it. The single socks between the pages looked exactly like the single socks from my basket. I remember thinking:"No wonder I can't match these up ever if he had them all the time." The dram continued with him reminding me that we split up pairs of socks as a symbol of our friendship and our being connected. Looks like that didn't work out to well.

The real question now is. Where on earth are all those companions for my single socks and does it make sense to continue like this?

SINGLE SOCK FIASCO

I think I posted about my issue with single socks before. I know socks are only useful in pairs. Unfortunately as long as I can't be 100% sure the sock is really truly single I can't throw it out. With all the unearthing of random items in the attic I came across a lot of single socks. I made the mistake of throwing all single socks into one laundry basket. I got rather frustrated trying to to sort them. So far I have sorted them into 5 categories. Dark, red-pink, white, grey, light blue. The dark section was about 2 thirds of the basket. Today I decided to sort them into sub categories. As I was doing that I thought:"Nobody should be wasting that much time on sorting socks." As you can tell, I do have lucid moments. Unfortunately just a few minutes later I had 6 pairs of socks that I matched up just by splitting it up into subcategories. Not even looking. My lucid moment ended rather fast.