Monday, October 11, 2010

me, and my stuff, and my psyche, and GUNS

There's not really anything about guns. I was just trying to keep my male readers. 

Now that we're en route to becoming homeowners, we are trying to display responsible behavior and do things like cleaning gutters and replacing light bulbs and such. Along with these lofty goals, I have been assigned the task of paring down all the clothes and shoes, so we can put shelves in the closet and buy new dressers and be totally awesome with our home makeover skills that we might have.

Now, for some people I'm married to, this job is über simple, and not just because they're Danish. "It's so easy!" they say. "I could clean out all the clothes and shoes in 15 minutes!" And maybe that person could. First, they would put half the clothes in an obscure location and then immediately forget that location. Then, they would throw the other half away. "There." they'd say, walking away smugly, with big plans for loosing Tomlin's hold on the worship market in the remaining 3 minutes. 

The next morning, when the shivering bare children wailed for their clothes, I would say something biting and sarcastic and awesome, and the other half of my marriage would be like, "Well, it shouldn't have been sitting in the middle of their DRESSER, then..." 

But for me, it's a bit more challenging. I've always known getting rid of stuff stresses me out. Not food, so much. It's clothes and shoes and toys and books. I remember as a kid, feeling a deep sense of remorse and guilt while putting toys in a donation bag, like I was hurting the toy's feelings. Now, it's a little different. I think I might wear those shoes again, or maybe I could cut off those jeans of Brynn's and make them a skirt, or maybe R2 actually cares about that toy and he'll just wander around silently, looking for it.

Yesterday, I went through all of Brynn's stuff, and I actually cried. What a wuss. It was hard, though, putting things that she looked so cute in in a bag, knowing that I was acknowledging that that stage of her life is over forever. Jeez. 

A couple of times a year, I go find one of those reality shows about hoarders and scare myself silly. Because these mentally ill women with bags full of rotting pumpkins or whatever SAY things that I say. And a lot of time, most of the time, the hoarding became a serious issue after losing a child. I watch it in horror, and then I tell the MOG to throw away everything I own, and just don't tell me. Just wait till I'm gone and throw it all away. I will be fine. I will gripe, and maybe I will buy 2 hair dryers from the thrift store, just in case one breaks, and then I will be fine. Right? 


  1. I have a hard time throwing out my own stuff but I do amazing with other peoples stuff! I watch hoarders occasionally to remind myself!

  2. First, I'd like to officially file a grievance against the author for putting the word "guns" in the title and manipulating me into coming here. It really did work.

    Second, I am a pack-rat too.

    Third, you used the same word twice, twice in once sentence...I enjoyed that.

  3. Jessica, you have a great blog! If you would like a random acquaintance to help you purge, give me a ring. I LOVE throwing things away! It feels so good to free your life of stuff! Just do it! Your house will feel much better:)

  4. You're gonna be fine :-)

    Also, I'm not sure you'd feel so much better if you just threw a lot of stuff away. Methinks for people like you it is important to have familiar objects and meaningful items surrounding you. Now, that being said, I think you are making great progress downsizing (which was necessary!) and i think getting some things organized will make your home, and your husband feel much better!

    Therapy will continue tomorrow. You have ice cream?

  5. in in that that, eh, remm? I enjoyed it, too.

  6. Men. SO simplistic.

    They just don't have a domestic clue, is all.

    Plus, they remain, as it were, unattached. So everything is so easy for them.

    Alas, what would we do without them.

    They help us get a grip.

    Or, not.

    Dern, blogger. whazzup with my password thingy.

    Kelly Taylor

  7. "Plus ca change plus c'est la meme chose." RIP Cal Stanley...Mama

  8. Jess....I cried when I read this. Memories flooded. Just know it doesn't get any easier with age. I breathe deep, hug it one more time reminding myself I won't be taking to Heaven. Then with a whisper... to God to give it to someone who loves it as much as I did, I download the smell, touch of the memory deep in the recesses of my heart and mind. :) Hugs!


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