The Dalai Lama observed that people in the Unites States,
the land of power and “stuff”, are the unhappiest people in the world.
I use to have a lot of sentimental stuff. It seemingly found
its way to the dump (although I would give almost anything to have a couple of
those things back) and I haven’t really missed it. I know that down the road I
will wish that I had some of those things- family photos, my great
grandmother’s plates, some of the baseball cards that I cherished as a child-
primarily those things that can’t be replaced. The crazy part for me is that I
don’t need those items to be happy or complete. I have the memories attached to
those items locked safely away in my brain and that can’t be destroyed, barring
some crazy accident. Now that that clutter has been destroyed for me I have
more space to focus on what is important- today.
I have also cleared
out the clutter that involves people and commitments that I am not interested
in. They aren’t really worth writing about but it was quite freeing.
The thing about clutter for me is that I was always afraid
that if I got rid of something that it would mean that I was getting rid of the
memory or association that I had attached to that item. I was given many things
and always lugged them around out of respect or love for the person who gave it
to me. I always kept old cards so that if something were ever to happen to the
person who sent it I would have that one last memory of them, even if it were
only what their handwriting looked like. Looking at this bizarre behavior now I
realize that I was afraid of losing something, of something being out of my
control. So I shredded almost all of the old cards that I had collected. I kept
three that I am completely unable to dispose of. One is from my sister and it
is a cross between a birthday card, a thank you card, and an (unwarranted)
apology. I know that she wrote it on one of her worst days and I want to always
have it to remind her how far she has come. It is a reminder to me of how very
important a support system is. Another is a card from my mother- in which she
promised to pay for my braces. I cashed that shit in for my shiny grill or a
portion of them because she hadn’t accounted for inflation. The third card is one
that is so very personal that I keep it hidden and locked up with such things
as my life insurance policy documents and retirement paper work. I have held on
to the card for over a decade now. Does
that make me some kind of hoarder? Aside from those things most of the
clutter is now gone. With removing the clutter I also removed a lot of the
chaos surrounding it. This newly empty space has left ample room for a few new
hobbies, adventures, and relationships that I was always afraid to have.
Part of paying attention is to notice what false beliefs we
have about ourselves.
They can be anything:
I am defective
I am unlovable
I will always be
abandoned
I am alone
My body is defective
or shameful
I am powerless
Although we may feel some aspects of each of these there is
usually one that stands out the most. For me it was always I am defective. Years passed in which all of the other false
beliefs played into my lack of self worth but I always felt as though my
defectiveness was the root of my problems. What I have realized is that nobody
is going to be my prince and rescue me. I have also realized that the walls I
built to “protect myself” were really just an attempt to hide from human
interaction so that nobody would see how defective I was. It is crazy to look
at all of that now- I often wonder how I didn’t see it earlier or figure it out
sooner. How can you push people away but expect someone to swoop in and save
you? Why would you want to do either? Those years spent believing that I don’t
need anyone and that I could do anything I needed to myself were essentially
wasted. We all need relationships and a sense of belonging. But in order to genuinely belong you have to
figure out who you are and what you want. This always scared the shit out of
me. I eventually tried to disprove my own feelings of defectiveness. I did
this by finding something that made me stable (school) and excelling at it. The
problem was that I wasn’t actually defective. All along I tried to run away
from it, hide it, overcome it, and conquer it. I faced it- and realized that it
was fiction. I am not defective and any time that a bit of defectiveness tries
to creep into my feelings I step back and give it the finger.
So I challenge you to
answer the following question:
What beliefs about myself
am I trying to prove or disprove?
The real question then is: are you crazy/dumb/open enough to
write about it? I find it all rather embarrassing but seem to do it anyway.
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