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Thursday, November 11, 2010

Funhouse of horrors

I have been going through our attic piece by piece, dismantling these little shrines that I'd erected since I first became literate... file folders with stories and piles of photographs, ribbons for awards I didn't relish winning and notes from friends whose faces I've forgotten.

About 90% of it I'm throwing away -- to highlight the things that I AM keeping -- the good things, the happy memories, the fun, positive letters that other people wrote to me. When the rest of that "clutter" is removed from our house, we can kick back an enjoy the few photos, books, clothes, toys and other stuff that actually has meaning to us.

Every week there is a great amount of satisfaction as I watch the garbage truck dump out our bins because some of that stuff there had a negative emotional weight to it. WHY was I carrying that stuff around from home to home like that? Mean notes I'd received, letters I'd received from doctors detailing diagnoses, just... garbage.

Why did I literally carry around my baggage? It's so glorious to set it free.
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