Gross PointBlank

Moving's like a trip to the therapist

Having to pack up all of my belonging in order to move this past weekend was like a visit to a therapist's couch--that's how much I learned about myself.

Just about everything I come in contact with has some kind of sentimental value for me.

"Unearthing" some treasures during the packing process was actually fun. I found a stuffed "good luck" bunny from my mom that has a black eye, band-aids and eight ball around its neck. That provoked a laugh.

I found the ceramic imprint of my son's hand when he was just five years old. I also found a baby picture of him inside a locket that also provoked a laugh. Why? Because when people would ask, "Who's that?," my answer would be, "Oh, that's my son, before he could talk back."

I think I found a couple dozen unfinished cross stitch patterns, as well as my grandmother's unfinished embroidery and crewel projects that I always promised mom I'd do someday. And that's what I said when I found them: "Someday, I'll get to that."

I found some smaller sized clothes that I ended up donating after I told myself to get real instead of conjuring up another diet.

I stumbled across some items I made that I long ago dismissed as not being "good enough" and discovered I've got some real talent.

I found a three-year-old bottle of molasses that I finally tossed because, no, I never did get that recipe right and likely never will.

I discovered that, in the old house, I had roughly 1,400 places to stash jewelry. Finding it all was like hunting for buried treasure.

I am not someone who lives lightly. I believe in plastering every inch of wall space with photographs and artwork, as well as whatever odds and ends might look good.

I find solace in clutter.

I did my best to free myself from some of it. I got rid of three couches, 12 bags of clothes, a few lamps, zillions of dishes, and am even trying to find a good home for two geckos.

But I kept two couches, about 12 bags of clothes, more pictures than what will fit in my new house...well, you get the idea.

I learned a lot about the current me and remembered some older versions of me from years past.

And the funny thing is that some of those boxes will likely never be unpacked until the next time I move, which hopefully is a long, long way off.


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