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lhskarkaKnowing what I should do about this and doing it are two vastly different things. I'm posting about it so I can get the anxious feeling out of my system. Bah! to you, anxiety!
I have classic hoarding issues. Not about everything. The internet age has thankfully freed me from the need to hang on to obscure reference materials just in case that knowledge comes in handy again one day. I can happily digitize pretty much any piece of paper I own and send the original into a recycling bin if I do want to keep the info handy. And I don't have to own every book I have ever read anymore. I know where to find them if I want them again. I do, after all, work in a library.
I'm even pretty good about handing off or otherwise disposing of objects that are no longer useful to me. Kitchen utensils, old electronic equipment, the papasan destroyed by years of children throwing themselves into it with elephantine grace, old magazines, even old clothes and shoes.
But if it's something to which I can assign sentimental value? Or something I don't want that I think can be turned into something I do want? I'm screwed.
Today's example: This morning, I set a fanback wicker "Morticia" chair out on the curb. If no one has helped themselves to it by tomorrow morning, it goes to the dump. It isn't in the best of shape due to the cats using it as a scratching post, and I've had it sitting in the garage, unused and largely unusable, for AGES. But I couldn't throw it out until today. And there is still a part of my brain that is nagging me about pitching it. Because I loved it, and because a friend gave it to me. - See? What my brain finally - finally allowed me to see is that the important thing is that I still have the friend - not the chair. Out it went.
Sentiment. It's just like sediment. Useful in small amounts, and destructive when it builds up over time.
I have classic hoarding issues. Not about everything. The internet age has thankfully freed me from the need to hang on to obscure reference materials just in case that knowledge comes in handy again one day. I can happily digitize pretty much any piece of paper I own and send the original into a recycling bin if I do want to keep the info handy. And I don't have to own every book I have ever read anymore. I know where to find them if I want them again. I do, after all, work in a library.
I'm even pretty good about handing off or otherwise disposing of objects that are no longer useful to me. Kitchen utensils, old electronic equipment, the papasan destroyed by years of children throwing themselves into it with elephantine grace, old magazines, even old clothes and shoes.
But if it's something to which I can assign sentimental value? Or something I don't want that I think can be turned into something I do want? I'm screwed.
Today's example: This morning, I set a fanback wicker "Morticia" chair out on the curb. If no one has helped themselves to it by tomorrow morning, it goes to the dump. It isn't in the best of shape due to the cats using it as a scratching post, and I've had it sitting in the garage, unused and largely unusable, for AGES. But I couldn't throw it out until today. And there is still a part of my brain that is nagging me about pitching it. Because I loved it, and because a friend gave it to me. - See? What my brain finally - finally allowed me to see is that the important thing is that I still have the friend - not the chair. Out it went.
Sentiment. It's just like sediment. Useful in small amounts, and destructive when it builds up over time.
