Yesterday I had a mini-breakdown induced by … stuff, of course. The mountains of stuff surrounding me in my workspace right now are getting to me, but it was more than that. Yesterday, D. starting asking me about throwing out this or that piece, sell, keep or toss? I felt irrationally anxious and later isolated and sad. I know this is part hormone, part cabin-fever, and then part pure anxiety at the letting go of items that weigh on me. Each time another person from craigslist walks away with our things, I feel a little elated. But I only have to swivel my chair around for a panoramic view of accumulated crap. As each of the cupboards and closets empty, the sorted remnants collect here next to me.
Yesterday I declared, I’ve had enough. I’m tired of selling $3 items on craigslist. I’ve earned enough money for my efforts, in my opinion, and I’m ready to go back to giving away what’s left. That’s what we’ve done for years, but even giving away to needy graduate students was sometimes a difficult task. Had I sold that Pier 1 armchair on craigslist rather than holding it in my garage for two people who said they wanted it but never took it, the third one wouldn’t have gotten it in spider-infested condition (I’m still sorry, M.).
So the collected things around me, listed or not, are being prepared for donation to a charity thrift shop in town. I’m eager to remove this clutter to see what emotion that will induce.