Housecleaning

I just moved out of the house I’ve lived in for the past decade.

For many people, ten years may not seem like that long. I have friends who have had the same home for decades longer than that. Not so for me, even in childhood.

As I talk about in Wreckage, my family moved a lot when I was growing up. We didn’t usually undergo these changes for “good” reasons or with the objective of making things somehow better. Instead, we moved because circumstances forced us.

Examples? We moved because my parents divorced and my mother, alone, could not afford the rent; because we got evicted after my stepfather was arrested in our rental; because our monthly lease payment increased, and often for unexplained reasons that seemed shady, even then, like something unethical, immoral, or illegal had happened.

I went to four different elementary schools and two middle schools. Somehow, although we moved again during high school, I was lucky enough to remain at the same school. It was there that I made the lifelong friends I’m still connected with today.

In my adult life, I’ve been mobile too. Mostly though, these moves improved my life, in that I was moving TO something better versus GETTING (RUNNING?) AWAY. At least that’s how it feels to me. My husband’s life has also been fairly transitory, primarily because of his military career.

So, for us both, 10 years in one place is a long time.

That home is special, both because of the house it is (great view, great layout, good light) but also because of what it meant to us. It was the house we bought when we first became empty nesters. It was where we lived when we adopted Penny, the dog who would change our lives. It’s where we ended one phase (having kids at home) and began another.

Now, as we let it go, we’re embarking on yet another chapter. We’re moving to another state and venturing out into the world to travel more. And, while I’m thrilled with our upcoming trips, it’s not without some trepidation and grief that I let this place go, even as I know it’s time to move on.

What’s been great is the ability to pay things forward. A young couple buying their first home had a chance to go “shopping” in through my piles of dishes and utensils. A contractor living in a lower-income, high-need area of town will share stacks of clothes, shoes, purses, and household items with his neighbors. I know the things will be put to good use.

That being said, the process has been difficult, and I find myself second-guessing some of the decisions I’ve made. What if I want that black blouse? (Even though I kept several already.) But I love that set of dishes I got at Target in 1995.

When I begin going down this rabbit hole of lowercase “r” regret, I remind myself: It’s just stuff. It will help others. You don’t have to hold onto it any longer. Be free.

I’ve got opinions and beliefs – about myself and others – that no longer have a place in my soul.

Letting go of tangible things has encouraged me to do the same with the less obvious baggage I cart around. Like the black blouse that no longer has a place in my closet, I’ve got opinions and beliefs – about myself and others – that no longer have a place in my soul. Can I clear them out and give them a good sendoff? Can I say goodbye to self-doubt, judgments of others, and anxiety about things beyond my control?

Like my Target dishes, these things have served me. They’ve served a purpose, but now they just take up valuable space. 

Perhaps a little internal housecleaning is in order.