To some this is a rude retort, an expressive outlet of frustration. In this blog, however, it is to unlock sanity (not that cussing doesn’t sometimes ensure that the offender feels better after an outburst). In this context, it is meant as an inspiration and neither rude nor offensive. Here, I endorse ‘dispose of’, ‘chuck it out’, ‘bin it’!
I endorse this, because I have had the realisation that I cannot continue in the manner that I do, do. You see, one of my psychological issues is that I am particularly clingy. I simply cannot throw anything away. A chunk of wood for instance, cannot be chucked just in case I happen to learn impressive carving skills and am able to craft that hunk into a fancy foot stool or something equally unnecessary. This extends to empty wood glue containers (you never know when you’ll need that nozzle shape again), buckled chipboard, palettes, old bread boards, used bubble wrap, chicken mesh wire, etc.
Where do I find said items, you ask? Well it doesn’t really matter. I take things (with permission) from my friend’s “to-go” piles next to their dustbins, I scavenge the left over-anythings from gigs, the side of the road, and my mom’s house. I do not have one power tool to my name, but one day I feel I would like to create all my furniture from scrap. Never mind the fact that I will then need to re-repurpose my current furniture.
My wardrobe also takes up a helluva lot of space. Not because I’m a fashionista, but because I still have t-shirts, skirts, belts and shorts from my youth. Impressive that a ‘bordering-on-30-year-old’ can still wear clothes from her mid-teens? Only slightly. But maybe not so impressive is the fact that a ‘bordering-on-30-year-old’ is still rocking up in the atrocities and fashion crimes of the entire 90s era. I’m experiencing true enlightenment here, bear with me.
Other clothing that I hoard includes items that I cannot actually fit into any more and perhaps it’s because I hang onto a time when I didn’t have to suck-it-in/lie down/safety pin myself into certain lower sizes. Let’s face it, these hips have never lied and the chances of them shrinking at this stage of my life are absolutely impossible.
Socks and jerseys with holes also stay safe just in case my slumbering darner awakes. I don’t yet even know the ins and outs of darning and to be fair there is a very blurred space in my head when I think of the borders between sewing, crocheting and darning.
This “maybe one day I will…” mentality extends to my urge to be an up-cycling ambassador. If I could transform my stuff into working and pretty goodies, then I would be one happy, green camper. The problem is that it takes me a lengthy amount of time to conceptualise a ‘new-old item’ from an ‘old-old item’.
Only once in a very blue moon do I take the metal scraps from the bottom of a fridge and transform them into a mounted filing system.
It is also rare when I actually use the kept empty coffee jars and create a magnificent gift holder.
The fact of the matter is that I collect junk at a faster rate than I transform it.
Deep down inside I’ve always known the answer to my problem, but for the time being I will present one final case for pro-hoarding.
Every time I do bring myself to trash an item, the very next day I find myself in the situation when I need that same blasted what’sit.
Anyway, the bits and bobs that make up my fantastic cabinet of clutter, have actually started to bother me and this mentally outweighs any of my reasons for keeping the junk.
It became so clear to me the other day (and I’m not the first person to say something like this):
“What if I never came across another awesome skirt that I could customise with a beautiful piece of lace (from my mom’s cabinet of clutter) because I could not let my now tattered skirt, that was awesome-of-yesteryear, go?”
And it was this dropped penny that caused me to finally gather up:
- the two dilapidated couches on the patio (dilapidated because I had ripped off the fabric and taken off the arms, lost momentum and left the single-seaters to rot in the rain)
- the clothes I had not worn for more than a year
- all my skew-soled shoes
- the semi working egg whisk
- the wonky can opener
- the computer keys
- the milligrams of all my hand creams
- the left over candle wax (clearly I was never going to melt it down and make one huge candle)
I threw away what needed to be thrown and I gave away what someone less fortunate would use.
The point is, I released myself from an annoying (mostly for baby because he also tries to live in this house with me) and insecure habit.
I tossed it!
Being free from unnecessary clutter beat the anxiety and that is where I found some Ohm.