Taming the Beast

After a weekend of sorting, culling and organizing papers, cards, family history and memorabilia, this is the not-as-messy-middle ground I must live with until next time:

I found things I didn't even know I had: 

• souveniers from P.E.I., that could have only come from Mom after her trip out there in 1984
• a scribbler Mom had saved from my "playing school" days, where I made up a day plan, wrote out assignments for my imaginary class, did the assignment myself, then marked it myself, back in the teacher role
• Christmas, birthday and "just because" cards from Mom with little more than her name signed, but the knowledge she had spent time to find just the right card - I have sorted them according to category and plan to pull out a random card to fit the occasion and feel Mom's presence when I miss her
• a forwarded email from my brother, to my sister (who had asked him for their punch recipe):

1. Curl fingers toward fist
2. Be careful not to tuck thumb inside fist. Broken thumbs may occur
3. Now raise fist up
4. Look directly at target
5. For increased power and velocity, twist hip and shoulder toward target as you deliver punch
6. For added joy and effectiveness, follow this punch with another from the opposite hand
7. This is known as the old one-two

Hope this has been helpful.

And I found more. So much more. Buried treasure was found within the massive heap of years worth of collecting that which felt special at the time. 

A new week is upon me and I had to sort myself out of the messy middle and tame the beast until next time. Funny thing is, I am actually looking forward to the next time.

Taking one hard step in a direction you want to go isn't easy, but it is almost always worth the effort. 

Whoops! I Did it Again!

Another day, another Rubbermaid container to sort through.

Four down, I have no idea how many more to go.

There IS a reason I procrastinated three years. This task is not for the weak of heart.

Snazzy Sunday (aka: it is time to do laundry)

I am still savoring the chilly fall mornings and happily reach for my socks each morning.

Is it just me, or does everyone like their socks to match their pj's?

It hurt me to look at this combination this morning but all my other socks are dirty.

I wore this outfit ALL day. I love quiet Sundays at home without a dress code.

The Messy Middle

Sorting, organizing, culling and reminiscing.

This is "Saturday" in a nutshell.

 

Fall - A Time to Shed

 The isolation I long for is the very same isolation that many are battling.

"Be careful what you wish for"

It is my goal to create a home that embraces me with warmth, comfort and joy

so when the day comes that I am the one who is battling the discomfort of being alone, 

I will not feel isolated.

As our daylight hours are shrinking and our mornings and evenings are cooler,

I am comforted in the warmth of fuzzy socks, long pants, favorite sweaters

and the pending season of cocooning myself within our home is a welcome thought.

The idea of winter does not scare me.

But all I have to do is look around

and I feel a darkness among those who are feeling the effects of a spring and summer of isolation.

I fear what winter will bring into their world.

I don't know how to make it better for others.

I feel helpless as I endeavor to alleviate the hopelessness that is growing by the day.

I think of the world I am trying to create within my own home and wonder if that is the key.

To surround yourself with that which brings you joy, 

instead of feeling weighed down by meaningless belongings could provide relief.

A fall project of reorganizing that which we already have,

dusting off evidence of happy memories hidden away in storage

and bringing "joy" into focus instead of clutter. 

Perhaps the changing seasons are a clue as to what we need the most.

The leaves shed their leaves in the fall in order to endure the winter season.

Fall ... 

a time to shed the excess to create space for joy to get us through the winter ahead.

Why?

 As I take the first tentative steps into dealing with photographs, memories, keepsakes and other paraphernalia around our home there is one word that comes to mind. "Why?"

What do I have and hold onto that has any value to anyone but me? Is this really worth the effort? Or should I simply dump and shred the vast majority of that-which-has-accumulated throughout the years?

Then I heard Mom's voice quietly penetrate my subconscious thoughts. I believe I was wishing for a quieter, less committed life. "Be careful what you wish for" whispered through my mind. I think it was Mom's voice.

Mom lived without Dad for thirty seven and a half years. My brother was in grade 12 at the time Dad was hospitalized and continued to live with Mom another five to six years (I could tell you exactly, because I kept the first letter he wrote me from his new apartment and I know exactly where to find it). There were various "borders" who came and went throughout the years, but for the most part, Mom was on her own the vast majority of the time.

I think Mom and I are wired similarly. We navigate life solo well. Home is important to us. Family grounds us. We do best when we have a game plan for the day ahead.

I remember one of my very first thoughts when my first son was born. I was 17 years old at the time. Please forgive me. I think my thoughts were a little bit like this: "A boy ..." "Eighteen more years 'til he grows up" (not necessarily in that order).

Then, I kept on having a baby about every ten years. Now, at age (almost) 60, I am still parenting my youngest son who is attending University. I may be 65 before I'm on my own within this house of mine. I have never lived a day of my adult life without a dependent under my roof. But the day will come. Then what will I have?

I imagine myself wandering through my home, appreciating that which I held onto. My brother's first letter of independence. Photographs and albums that encompass Mom and Dad's family history, up until I stopped developing pictures that are stored on my computer or a USB drive. I can picture myself sitting still with Mom's library and going through her books one by one by one. I hope my curiosity for life starts to mirror hers as the demands of life start to diminish.

I see myself combing through the memories I have collected along the way and knowing when to let go and what is worthy of holding onto. I have three sons who are NOT collectors of memorabilia. What I have, will need to find homes elsewhere. It may become a project to re-home some of what matters to me before the day my children have to decide.

I foresee a long life ahead. I will need to re-invent myself and become someone who has something to talk about when in the company of others. I need to keep the air around me fresh, new and alive.

Who will I become when I reach the stage when I am living on my own? I know one cannot hold onto the past but I also know the value of feeling the roots of belonging. 

The need to cull and purge is ongoing. Some of what held value to me at the onset of my day, I was ready to purge by the day's end. Why would I hold onto this? What value does it hold? To me? To anyone else?

As I empty one set of shelves, to fill it with the photographs and memories I have deemed worthy of keeping, I must continue to ask myself "Why? Why is this important? Is it worthy of the space it takes to hold this? If I was not here, would this be of value to anyone else?"

I should "Marie Kondo" this scenario, pull out all my memorabilia and stack it all in one room to recognize the vastness of the task at hand. 

Two Rubbermaid containers at a time is enough for today. I need another extended long weekend before I take on the world. When I accept the challenge, I must ask myself two questions: 

• Does this bring me joy?
• Why am I holding onto this?

Holding onto the memories of the past without letting it weigh you down is a continual process. While there is a time to hold onto and cherish the past, part of the process is knowing when to let it go. 

I have held onto things that held value to Mom. Because they were important to her, it wasn't easy to discard her personal mementos. The question is now: "Does this matter to me?" 

The process continues...

Before and After

I spent the entirety of yesterday sorting through pictures, removing photos from frames and filing them where they belong and organizing albums. I kid you not, when I say "all day".

Here is the "before":

This is the "after":

Obviously, I have not yet completed the task. I have one more Rubbermaid container the exact same size downstairs which holds all our existing photo albums. The last part of this job entails intersorting the small stack of pictures left over into the appropriate album, label the albums, then find a "forever home" for all.

How I wish I had another four-day weekend at my disposal to complete the job. Just wait a minute! If I hadn't worked two out of the four days, a two-day weekend should have been sufficient.

My weeks exhaust me. It is time to work on a way to make my life work more efficiently. 

I am eyeing up a few more extended long weekends on the horizon. That could do the trick ...