Anyway, I thought I'd fill you in on what I've been up to lately. This week I've been moving/organizing/cleaning/pitching. (I'll spare you pictures of the area that looks like a tornado ransacked the place.) It's a project that is long overdue, but important for the moving to a foreign country deal. If you looked at my room and closet at home, you probably would not be able to tell that a college grad lives there now. Parts of it are frozen in time from when I was younger. I have a confession to make: I am a hoarder.
I have a hard time letting go of things. I’m getting better at it. Admitting it is the first step, right? I know that possessions are not important. To me, the memories associated with them are. I especially have a hard time letting go of things that I am attached to because I made them. I have things from elementary and middle school still. That stuff is literally from last century! Yikes. As I’m sorting through this “junk or clutter” as some call it, I am discovering journals from 10 years ago. My progress on the task is painstakingly slow as I stop to read through them. It's simply a necessary step to determine the value of an object--whether it deserves to be salvaged or garbaged. As I read, I am struck by how different I am compared to the person who wrote it. Even the handwriting has changed. I feel like I am getting reacquainted with myself. I forgot the younger me. It makes me wonder what I will think of myself in a couple years when I move back. Will I recognize who I used to be?
2 comments:
Hey Kel!
There have been many times when I try to go through my stuff at home and come across old journals...I don't get very far...it's always interesting to reflect on yourself when you were younger...I can't wait to see you!
Wow, this is totally random, don't even ask how I found this blog post, Kelly - but I absolutely feel that way about rereading old journals! It's like - if I don't even recognize the person I once was, will I remember the person I am today?
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