letting go of old stuff

Curled up memories

Like spiral pencil shavings

Crushed to dust in time.

The clothes all stay intact

But images that cling to them

Have shattered in the dark.

As I gather tenderly

I form distorted pictures

All with rosy tints.

And so I find it difficult

To cut through ties

And simply let it go.

I got some of my clothes back from my old house yesterday. I haven’t seen any of it for eight months and so I was really excited to get some of it back.

However, when I arrived at the house I saw that there were about twelve bags worth and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to fit it all in my new, very tiny flat. So today I had to go through it and pick out what I wanted to keep.

Now, I haven’t seen this stuff for eight months so it’s arguable that I’ve proven I don’t actually need it. But as I went through it I found it really hard to make the choices.

The memories attached to each item were really strong and even things that I knew I would never use again felt painful to throw away. I know that it is the memories that are hurting me and not the item of clothing and I do find it fascinating.

I have managed to get through half of it and I’m not looking forward to the rest of it. I can see why people become hoarders because that gave me real anxiety; I really felt like I was throwing away a part of my history, a part of the story of Rachel.

Much Love

Rachel xx

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