As far as I know, I’ll be staying in Canada for the fall semester. This is good news! Although, I didn’t realize how excited I was to be in the pacific north west and have it rain on me while I went for moody walks and listened to the New Moon soundtrack. Toronto will be fine for now!
But staying here means I can’t in good faith ask anyone to hold on to all the boxes I deposited two summers ago. I’ve been through one garage already. It was full of mostly trash (very old lotion, tea I never liked in the first place) and one box of notebooks that I didn’t have the heart to go through in one afternoon. I had one suitcase I packed up in May 2018 thinking this is my forever box and I opened it up and found the DVD of Up and my ex-boyfriend’s skates??? I mean not the worst but surely I had wanted more for the aged self I imagined rifling through these “treasures.”
I’ve never been a good packer, always been a good rememberer. When I tried to pack in 2018 I went through my belongings piece by piece and thought I was thinking carefully. Everything hit me hard. I mean, I wrote an entire essay about two plastic spoons I found in a folded in half purse. To call me sentimental wouldn’t hit the mark. I was on my way to emotional hoarding.
Surprising most, I’m sure, to my parents (who paid someone to clean the house we shared when I was growing up from top to bottom EXCEPT my room—the door stayed closed) I read Marie Kondo’s book last week. The one about tidying up. I’d admonished it in the spoons essay I wrote when I read she suggested to throw out letters. But last week I listened to the audio book and got itchy palms about “putting my house in order.”
A part that stood out to me was when Marie wrote about being small and feeling like she could connect to objects more easily than people. Objects in her room were her friends, her company. I get that. She also wrote that many of her clients who have a lot of ~stuff~ are holding on because it’s holding them in the past or in the anxiety of the future. I get that, too. I think if I throw away this half of a battleship game that I split with my ex so we could play even when an ocean was between us, will it have happened at all? And I don’t have the answer. But the truth is: we never played—so what good is it doing laying inside of a suitcase in my cousin’s garage?
Next week I’m heading to my uncle’s to tackle whatever ended up there two years ago. I’d wrapped my head around clothes (just donate them all unless there’s winter stuff in there because I’ve just got sneakers and jean shorts atm) and books (I will keep them all—sorry Marie). Unfortunately, I think there might be a bit more detritus that I’m not accounting for. There’ll be my mug collection… random electrical chords… Christmas lights and festive plates and a bottle of fake blood I used for a Halloween costume once. I’m sure I’ll find French textbooks and more tea I don’t want and maybe sweaters from boys who used to keep me warm. Some of this stuff will go quickly, but I know some of it will try and attach itself to my proverbial charm bracelet that is already so heavy I can’t lift my arm.
How do you deal with stuff? Marie Kondo has an order, and a plan, and I want to do this but I’m worried I won’t have time. it’s probably going to rain and I only rented a car for one day and I’m sure my uncle just wants all of it gone. So, I’m nervous. But I think I can be strong. I don’t want to be someone who has too much stuff. I’m not about to move into a van or something (although, fun story, I did do that one summer…) but I don’t need boxes and boxes spread out over five garages. I think maybe that’s it. My New York stuff is with storage minus a ukulele and books that friends have held onto, I’ve got boxes in my Dad’s basement back home and two garages here in Toronto. I feel a bit spread out, like I haven’t landed anywhere… I just have small nests I could make a life out of in various spots reasonably accessible to me.
It’s also the fact that I’m staying in Toronto, and by the end of this year will have been here longer than I’ve been anywhere in the last two years. I’m used to packing up and re-nesting every 3-4 months. I’m hoping getting all my stuff sorted and filling my apartment with everything I truly love and being severe about what I choose to let go of—truly, I must be ruthless, you have no idea how many “good luck charms” I have—then maybe I can take a deep breath and feel like I’m home for the first time in a long time.
I’ve got a lot of work to do. But I’m going to do it, and be glad to have done it. I’m going to look into that garage full of everything that mattered to me most, shake it awake, and look it straight in the eyes. I will ask for joy and where there is no spark, I will thank graciously and MOVE ON!!!!!! Sounds thrilling, weight-lifting, and very hard. Please wish me luck!
Steph
I did find this beading book and make a little jewel bug to see if I could.