other people's words

As you know, my resolution for 2009 is to reclaim my house. From the clutter. From the memories of my parents (this is the house I grew up in and inherited.) For myself, and for my boyfriend. It's been a very long process, learning to let go of stuff, stuff with memories and stuff my parents bought, held, and cherished, clothes they wore and stuff they used. All over my home. And I've never been really good at expressing the conflicting feelings this stuff can bring up.

Over the holidays, I stumbled upon FlyLady, an organization-come-sisterhood to help people get, well, organized. Anyone who knows me knows my sink certainly isn't shiny yet (hell, it may be the last thing I do!), but the daily emails prompting decluttering and instilling the importance of routines to organize your time, if nothing else, have been useful.

We get bombarded by quite a few daily emails, including testimonials from other participants. The one from Monday really struck a nerve; in it, Kathryn describes lugging the sewing machine her mother bought her as a teenager as she left for college and across the country over several moves. Mind you, I've never moved in my whole life, but her words resonated:

I felt guilty -- not only because I was leaving projects undone but because, by not sewing, it felt like I was rejecting something important that my mother had shared with me. (...)

Every time I moved, I felt guilty about having it, about not using it, about abandoning my mother. (...) I de-cluttered around it, each time feeling worse when I saw it. Still, I couldn't get myself to put it in the car for Good Will. It felt like I was packing up my mother and taking her away. Never mind that my mother is still safe and happy in Wisconsin, that we now share a love of knitting, that she knows I don't sew anymore and that she's perfectly okay with that.

That's it, that's exactly it! Somehow, letting things go is a betrayal of people and their love. Now, my mother passed in 1994, so you can imagine how I've felt some of the things she describes, maybe worse, since mom wasn't around to tell me it was okay to let go (not that she would have - she was a pack rat herself.) I was stunned; I've read it several times over the past few days, and it still blows my mind how she figured me out and described it so succinctly.

I've added a list in the right hand column of things I have decluttered or given away, Freecycled or otherwise gotten rid of. (By the way, I'm aiming for 250 "items", which is a huge amount, considering a garbage bag full of clothes, or a box full of books, is one "item". I'm already behind, but that's OK.) One of those bags of clothes was part of my mother's wardrobe. Read back: she died in 1994. My father never went through her stuff before he died in 1998. I've been even worse. *sigh* But somehow, somewhere deep inside, something has clicked, and the sentimental attachment has started to fade, to slough off, to shed, like leaves in the fall. And somewhere, I've found the pleasure of giving things away that I know will be of use to someone else.

A box of mom's French books are leaving with a lady on Friday; when I spoke to her on the phone, she was just so excited at the idea of getting her hands on the three volumes of "La dynastie des Forsyte". I remember my mom reading those books, and now, someone else will get to enjoy them. And that, to quote a domestic goddess whose housekeeping and culinary skills I will never attain, is a good thing. Not to mention I get the cheap thrill of crossing out items in my OYS posts. YAY!

Edit, 30/01/09: Oddly enough, the lady and/or her daughter never showed. The box of books went to the next person who had inquired about them. She picked them up the day after I contacted her. I love it when a freecycle plan comes together.