I’m trying to get rid of stuff. It isn’t that I’m becoming a minimalist or anything, I’ve just reached a point of accepting certain realities. Namely, stuff and stuff cannot occupy the same space. Practically, that means I can’t squeeze one more book onto an overburdened shelf, nor can I ram one more hanger onto an already packed rod. I’m not sure, but this urge to purge may be seasonal. It’s getting to be that time of year when we hunker inside. That means the inside of home needs to be comforting, not stifling.
I’m a big fan of stuff. Truly. Like most folks, I tend to appreciate some stuff more than others, and that’s okay. Some stuff is so dear, I wouldn’t dream of relegating it to a goodwill pile. Certain books are like that. Sure – after I read some books, they simply don’t belong in the house (or in my memory, for that matter). But once in a while a book comes along that needs a permanent spot on one’s shelf. Maybe it deserves to be reread. Maybe it just needs to be touched or held once in a while.
Other stuff can be meaningful and important to a person, too. And those things are worth holding on to. Those are the things that, when someone asks to borrow them, we waver. Personally, I’ve had to learn hard lessons about precious things. Like when someone asks to borrow a few of your records, then moves away, taking your vinyl with them. Or when someone borrows one of your nicest dresses, rips it, and blames you for the damage. Yes – this is asshole behavior, and perhaps one shouldn’t be loaning stuff to jerks in the first place. The problem, though, is that you don’t always see that kind of behavior coming. Some folks are trustworthy right up until they’re not. And once I learn that about someone, yet continue to trust them, I’ve no one to blame but myself. Fool me once is enough, y’all.
Now that I’m getting better about knowing when to lend things out and when to not, I’m happier. For me, my new basic rule is this: If I ever want to get something back, don’t lend it in the first place. When someone asks to borrow a book (or anything else), I think about it long and hard. Is it a book that needs to reside with me for all time? Or can I let it go – for all time? If and only if the second question’s answer is yes, do I lend it. Short and sweet. Because here’s the deal, friends – no one will ever appreciate your stuff as much as you. Even if they openly cherish and respect their own belongings, they will probably not extend the same courtesies to yours.
So as I prepare for the end of the year and try to make more room in my life, stuff is being sorted and discarded. It feels good, and because I’m honoring my needs, it feels honest. I will always be a gal with stuff. It’s in my nature. But if it isn’t useful or beautiful to me, I needn’t keep it. Here’s hoping I can purge the right things, and that I don’t even notice their absence.