My Clutter Buster angel came round for another session this afternoon. I was not looking forward to it as we were tackling the front room which is piled high with mostly My Stuff. Art stuff, book stuff, wedding stuff, camera stuff, might be useful stuff and more.
I almost didn’t want to do it. Was it shame? Shame of all the stuff I’ve accumulated? Shame of saying “actually that piece of cardboard is really important”. I don’t think that was the major factor.
It was in fact much more familiar.
Do I keep this book on growing your own vegetables or do I get rid of it? Because I’ve never used it. But I might one day. Except I have ME now and I can’t even do a spot of light weeding let alonemake my own kitchen garden or dig potatoes.
Do I keep this badminton racket? This badminton racket I used to use. But now I can’t because I have ME/CFS. But I might get better and want to use it.
It’s the same over and over. This *thing* represents who I was, possibly who I’d like to be again, but not who I am. Do I get rid of it because I’m not that person now or do I keep it because I might be that person one day?
Well what K, my Clutter Buster Angel, said makes it all a bit better. That if (when) you do get better it would be lovely to be able to go out and buy the badminton racket knowing you’re going to use it. This makes it easy to let go of the stuff.
Letting go of the emotional attachments is a little trickier but will come with time. Accepting I am not that person anymore is something I thought I had pretty much dealt with. But there’s still things to work on. Still things to accept and let go of. And maybe the physical process of clutter busting is actually helping the emotional aspects of letting go too.
It’s not a surprisingly relevation. It just caught me off guard.
Self image and identity are things I wrestle with still. In my head I see myself as the thin girl I once was but trapped in a overweight flabby body. There’s also a healthy girl in here waiting to bust out. If only I could get ME/CFS to bend to my will.