One of the benefits of ridding yourself of the stuff you've accumulated

As you know, I am divesting myself of stuff.  It is a"work in progress".  Anything worth doing will almost always be a work in progress.  In this case however, finishing isn't as important.  It's more or less an evolving, not a "check it off the list of things to get done" thing.  If you think about it, any change you make in your life will require you to think, re-think and sometimes think again.  I have been doing alot of "rethinking" of what I want in my life and what I can do without.

As a hobbyist, you collect stuff.  People give you stuff.  Stuff just magically "appears".  Once word gets out that you like crafts, it's almost always assumed that you would just love someone else's stash.  The truth is, sometimes you do.  More than likely though, you probably don't.  I have inherited a whole basement full of stuff.  Fabric I would never have bought for myself.  Yarn of dubious quality, not to mention no idea of the fiber content.  Is it acrylic?  If so, is it all acrylic or is it a blend?  Someones' tossed aside knitting needles, metal of course (I favor wood) and nicked and scratched to boot.  I even got a counted cross stitch  picture, half stitched, with rust on the fabric.  Rust!  I couldn't do anything with it and now it is lining a dump somewhere.  For a long time, I was afraid of throwing away something given to me.  Usually, if I received something from someone, it would be noticed if someone else showed up with it.  That's a problem when you have a very tight group of friends, we know everyone's secrets and what everyone has, hasn't and what they want and admire.  Unless you need to get rid of something.  It's amazing to realize that it is o.k. to not want something.  To give yourself permission to shed stuff that you would not have purchased for yourself, know that someone else would love to have it, cherish more than you and if it truly is rubbish, having the courage to decide to do the world a favor and get rid of it.

But like friends, tossing your belongings aside or just letting them go to someone else, can be difficult.  You have to be able to answer the question, "what does this signify to me and why is it so important for me to hold onto it?"  That's the problem true hoarders have.  They get stuff to the point that stuff owns them.  Everything is so important yet when pushed to answer the hard question "why", they have difficulty putting into words what their excuses are.  The stuff that really means something, well, that is easy to answer.

"This belonged to my grandmother.  When I see it, I remember the countless times that she used it."  This is an item that can't be replaced as it has serious meaning for you.  The problem is when you have stuff that  has no real meaning for you and yet you can't get rid of it.  After a bit, this becomes your security blanket.  You feel safe with it around.  Maybe you went through a major life upheaval, job loss, death of a loved one, something that affected you in a manner you just couldn't deal with rationally.  So you latched onto something safe.  I remember after a 2 1/2 year layoff, that even when I was working elsewhere and barely making ends meet, thinking "when I get my job back, I am going to purchase so much yarn.  This way, if I see something I want to make, I won't have to worry about having the money to purchase the stuff to make it."  In my case, I come by stuff acquisition naturally.  My dad's mother, raised two boys alone (her husband died of a heart attack early in life).  Not only did she put herself through school, she purchased a home (this in the time where women had to have a co-signer for a loan).  She took in relatives children (a whole house of them) when the mother came down with TB.  She did this with no help from the state.  The older children tended the younger children.  She worked 3 to 11.  They all graduated high school, they went on to having successful lives.  They were fed, clean, dressed and didn't want for much.  Yet, even when many times there was more "month than money", she still put food up into a pantry.  She would buy 1 skein of yarn more and put that skein back "just in case".  My mother's mom, canned, put up tons of food, hardly used a grocery store.  These women were from the Depression.  My mom moved us all to Maine when my dad got stationed here and the first thing she did was set up a pantry.  I can still hear her today "You can never tell when you'll need something and the roads will be impassable or a friend will need some help."  She still has a pantry that would feed her for over 6 months.

I have a really large food pantry.  It is my security blanket.  But I have to admit, when I see those bins of fabric, yarn, fiber, I feel safe.  The really difficult thing is realizing that just because something like my many hobbies, something that means so much to me, defines who I am and what I value, does not have the same meaning to my children.  I had a real epiphany watching "Hoarders" the other night.  The daughter of a true hoarder made the comment that when her mother died, all this stuff was headed to a town dump.  I looked around at my stash.  Would my children feel the same way?  I am not taking it with me when I go, so I have to give thought to what is going to happen to it when I'm gone.  My sons would happily just give away or throw away my stuff without another thought.  My daughter would be less quick to throw, but what defines me, doesn't define her.  I don't want her to hold onto some of my stash, only to have it become her ball and chain.  I explained that to her and she told me not to worry.  She did a mini-version of the "100 thing challenge" and I've seen monks cells with more stuff.  Hoarding is not going to be a problem for her.  Her needs a few, a t.v.(for Netflix), a computer, 1 writer she likes alot and her cellphone.  That's it.  The boys have a bit more, add to that my daughters stuff:  video systems (that's right, with an "s") games, boom box and MP3 players. Ipads and tablets.

I have to have my Kindle Fire and my tablet.  They are either with me at work or in my knitting bag.  Always.

A side effect of following this to it's natural conclusion is trying to figure out who should get my stuff when I am gone.  It sounds morbid, but I am really giving thought to including some of my "I would love to know that so & so would receive this" feelings.  To accept the fact that just because it means so much to me, but that it may ONLY mean so much to me.  I question my friends.  They think it odd but they are coming around.  The more I examine the hold my stuff has on me, the more I answer those difficult questions, the more I shed my belongings like a snake sheds it's skin, the reins loosen, the hold eases up, it gets easier and easier.  You realize that you have value that extend up and beyond what you have.  You are not defined by the stuff you have but by the joy the stuff you have brings you.  And you will find as you let go, you can and will be happier with less.

Let's play a game!

I am not sure why this is, but if I am seated, minding my own business, not bothering anybody, the remaining four people in this household feel some sort of obligation to come find me and find something useful for me to do.  Obviously, they feel, I must be bored silly so therefore it is their sole job in life to fix that.  Their method of fixing this is to either break something, demand food, offer to make their own food (which while that SOUNDS like the way to go, often times produces more destruction and loss of food I was saving/making for dinner/made to be your dad's lunch at work tomorrow than even I can overlook.  And I can overlook ALOT). or choose to invite their friends over because "don't worry, mom's not doing anything and she loves to cook, so she can rustle us up something to eat."  I would love to say this is all about the kids, but I'd be lying.  Husband dearest like to make eggs over easy and occasionally he ends up with egg not quite making it into the pan.  I've come home from work to see egg on my countertops, once dripping down the front of my stove and pans (and drip pans over the gas burners of my stove) soaking in the sink.

Where did they get THAT idea?  Could be because 90% of my day revolves around the kitchen.  Could be because 90% of THEIR day revolves around the kitchen (hence explaining why my time in the kitchen is as much as it is).  But one thing I've noticed is that left to their own devices, my kids can invent more things for me to worry about, question their sanity, question MY sanity, rethink my stance on childlessness and sometimes wonder why I got married.  Take Thursday for example.

I am downstairs hanging laundry.  I am only gone a short period of time.  As I come up the stairs, I encounter an unusual smell.  More of a stench.  A bad stench.  Now I have raised 2 boys so I am almost a genius at "guess that smell".  But this one is like sulfur,  rancid fat, and something "hot".

"What is that odor?"  I demand as soon as I get both feet on the 1st floor.  "What did you do now?"

"Well, he (being a friend who shall remain nameless so that his mom can hold her head up in public) wanted to know if egg shells burn so we tried to light one on fire."

Yep.  20 years old and 18 years old and still playing with fire. I am blessed.

"Where is your sister?"  As it turns out, she is in her room.  She told me later that she didn't want to be a part of whatever stupid human trick her brothers were going to do THIS time and sought refuge in the sanctuary of her room.  And could I please do SOMETHING about that smell??  PLEASE AND NOW??

Want to take a guess as to how long it took to get that stench out of my house?  Well, that was Thursday, it is now Sunday and it's about 90% gone.

For the record, eggs will burn.  But not before releasing a truly obnoxious, foul, stench that you will not forget anytime soon.

If only I could.......