Step One: Purging of Self

For a long time I have done things because it was what I was “supposed” to do.  Made decisions based on other peoples happiness, not on my own.  Kept things because I should keep them, not because I wanted to keep them.  Stayed in relationships because I didn’t want to hurt the other person, even though I was no longer happy.

I am moving in January.  Not with my parents and not for school.  Simply because I know it’s what I need to do.  I’m not doing it because it’ll make someone else happy – I’m doing it because it’ll make me happy.
The first step in this process is to finally go through my stuff.  I have had boxes in my basement for almost a year and a half now.  Boxes of stuff I haven’t needed in nearly two years, boxes of stuff I haven’t been willing to part with.  To be honest, I think I was scared.  No, that’s a lie – it just sounds more dramatic than “I’m lazy”.  I had boxes of stuff from when I lived in Philadelphia, gathering dust in my basement because I was too busy living my life now to deal with things from my past.
Today I dealt with it.  I made lists and sorted through boxes and I finally feel like I’m on my way to getting there.  I threw things away and decided there were things I didn’t need – a big step for me, a pack-rat since I was little.  I have a huge pile of clothes to donate – clothes dating back to when I was a freshman in high school.

Actually, I’ve been on a big “get rid of things I don’t need” kick recently.
I think The Boyfriend first inspired it.  He finally completely moved from Montana to Oregon and realized just how much stuff he had – and how much he didn’t need.  Slowly but surely over the past couple of months he’s been weeding out the unnecessary items and feels so much better because of it.
A couple weeks ago my parents had a man from the Rescue Mission over for dinner.  I felt so ashamed for all I had – and all I didn’t need.  I have a room full of stuff.  Full of frivolity.  Books and clothes and junk and stuff.  And most days I add to it.  Rarely to clear my self of junk – physical or otherwise – and I desperately want to change that.

From now on I want to keep things because they mean something, not just because I have it.  Keep the books I love, that changed my life and donate the rest – there are too many people without books to read for me to hold on to the ones I won’t read again.  Keep the clothes I wear often and truly love and donate the rest – keeping a shirt simply because I feel bad that I don’t wear it is down right silly.  Digitize the magazine articles I want to keep and recycle the excess pages.  Keep the silly knick-knacks that make me who I am and get rid of the ones that mean nothing.  If my room is a reflection of who I am, I want it to scream my name, not the shoulds and could’ve beens and excess junk that clogs my brain.

I’m finding myself.
And for the first time, I like what I’m finding.

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