It's been a long year since last August. New school, new job for me, new changes in family dynamics. I really want to get away. We haven't been away as a family to really unwind together for over a year. To me, that's a long time. Sure, we've been out of state for a wedding and a family visit, but that's not the same. I want to get in the car or --better yet--on an airplane and go a new place with new scenery and a boat. Lord knows I really want to go on a boat. Not a big boat, not a cruise liner, but on a pontoon where I can troll around, do some fishing, and just lollygag. With a friend who will talk to me. My husband is not a talker and would find three hours on a boat with me quite tiring, I believe. Just sayin.' I would find three hours of silence lonesome.
I would love to find a friend who would like a good mix of talking, being quiet, and would hook the worms for me. I hate worms and have no desire to actually keep a stinky, scaly fish to eat. I just love the joy of casting a line, waiting for a bite, and then reeling one in. That's all. Catch and release. I'm remembering Lake Wilson. My friend Barb and I went there a couple years ago and just enjoyed being together, pretty much the only ones there. I sat on the picnic bench and journaled as I admired the cool blue-green water that I could see through near the sand. It was like rippling topaz. She stretched out on a beach blanket and read a mystery book. We both wanted to stay longer, but decided to go to a little 'folk art museum" out in the boonies, a place recommended to us by the proprietor of the B&B where we stayed. What a gigantic letdown. Ever wish you had just followed your heart? The "art museum" was basically a collection of people's junk put together to make kooky looking dolls, not-so-funny toilet trinkets, and imaginative but ugly jewelry. And that was just the
foyer area. For a tour, we would have had to shell out six bucks each. Really? What a rip-off. The "curator" went on and on about these were "local craftsmen and women with real talent and an eye for whimsy." Whimsy. Is that a synonym for junk?
Anyway, we cut our losses and had a better time at the 50's type "diner" next door, enjoying the classic American burger, fries, and a Coke.
So maybe I'm just feeling cheated a little. A lot. Trying not to be jealous of friends who have been to
the beach, the lake, distant shores, or SOMEWHERE fun and/or peaceful. Even my own kids have been "off and doing" with their friends this summer. The older ones, that is. The disjointedness of having an almost-empty nest is actually more challenging than taking a bunch of kids on vacation. They have their own schedules, their own money and transportation, their own idea of what constitutes fun, and at this stage, parents are not part of the equation.
If I don't get away, it will seem like one school year just blended in with the next without refreshment. I need to be refreshed and recharged. I do that best on the water, away from home, and with a friend.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Thursday, August 09, 2012
Diary of a Recovering Hoarder
Written Saturday, Aug 4.
It's 6:20 and I'm alone, tired, and feeling accomplished. My hubby took the boy to our oldest son's place to swim in the community pool on this sweltering, humid day, and then the three of them were going to play golf. It's always a highlight when the little brother gets to be with his big married brother. He kept calling it a "guys' day."
My daughter drove to Ohio with two of her friends, and today they are having a girls' day out with the friend they went to visit.
My other son is at the beach with his girlfriend and her parents. I guess it's a couples' day out for them.
So, I looked myself in the mirror and asked, "Do you want a self's day out?" Self didn't answer, so I took it as a no. Self took one look at her bedroom closet and made a big decision. This would be the second of 12 days I get rid of 27 things. (This kills two birds with the proverbial one stone; purging 27 things 12 times is on my 101 in 1001 List. Is that enough numbers to throughly confuse you and your third cousin twice removed?)
A few years ago I came to realize that I had a big problem with stuff. Liking stuff too much. Collecting stuff. Thinking about stuff. Taking care of stuff. Ignoring stuff. Storing stuff. Stuffing stuff. It's not like stuff was piled up everywhere; I could usually contain it or close doors or drawers on stuff. I could push it to the perimeters and make things presentable. It's not like I was saving gross things or germy things. No, I wasn't the classic hoarder that we've all seen on TV. I wasn't dysfunctional nor did I collect rabbits, cats, dogs, or chickens.
But there was always the nagging feeling that I had too much, and I was failing to evaluate its importance. The task of deciding what to get rid of was overwhelming, so I blocked it out.
Occasionally I would get fed up and donate a bunch of stuff to Goodwill or a charity that sent a truck to my doorstep.
I read decluttering books. (Stacks of them.)
I read decluttering magazine articles (then kept the magazines).
I argued with hubby about what constitutes clutter and what doesn't. (Of course his memorabilia is clutter to me, but mine are keepsakes..Ahem)
I thought my generosity atoned for my greed.
Then a transformation began to take place. I don't remember exactly when, but God got ahold of my heart at a deep place and revealed that I had a serious trust poblem. He also showed me that I had made a lifelong habit of justifying my keeping of stuff.
For example, I doubted that He would supply all my needs, so I saved stuff in order to take care of myself. I justified it by saying I was just planning ahead.
I feared losing my memory, so I hoarded pictures, even blurry and dark and insignificant ones. I justified it by organizing all my photos by year, and only tossing the super bad ones. Never mind that others would never be worthy of a scrapbook or frame.
I doubted God's love and other people's love for me, so I saved greeting cards of every kind--happy birthday, thinking of you, get well, secret pal, Mother's Day, Merry Christmas, and happy anniversary. The affirming words would be there on my closet shelf in the event people stopped telling me I meant something to them.
I saved all kinds of things, from hotel soaps and shampoos to outgrown winter coats of the kids' I rationalized that I could give them away to some poor soul in need someday. Psychologists call this a savior complex. I called it "just being thoughtful and merciful." What I failed to tell myself the truth about was that, nobody how many things I supplied to other people in need, I would never be their Savior. And if I were to be asked to meet a need someday, would God not supply it for me to give? Saving a little is fine, but deep in my heart of hearts, I knew I was clutching and amassing stuff in order so that I would always be needed.
That was the reality and mentality I thought would be mine for life. Bondage to stuff with no way out.
But, thanks be to God, He had mercy on me and broke the chains. I would like to say that the change was so immediate and forceful that I got rid of all my stuff within a month of Goodwill trips. Or that there was a sudden shortage of full-size shampoo somewhere in the lower 48 states, thus rendering my one-ounce hotel bottles the saving grace of dirty hair everywhere.
Nope. It wasn't that easy, but it was a start to a new way of thinking.
Thinking the truth.
Believing the truth.
What's the truth?
1. God has always taken care of me and always will.
2. He will take care of everyone else, too, even if I never lift another finger to help.
3. He will love me forever, even if no one else does.
4. Other people do love me, but they are flawed like me, and fail to express their love verbally often just like I fail to do. Let people be people and just be the kind of person you want to have in your life.
5. The best pictures in my memory are clear as glass. The next-best ones are in scrapbooks or frames or on my blog.
6. Forgetting people and events someday if I get dementia, as painful and scary as that might be for me and others to realize, can't compare to the pain I cause the Lord every day when I'm in my right mind/ Daily I forget His benefits (His blessings). Forgetting, biblically speaking, is choosing not to remember. If I don't choose to remember them, I have forgotten them.
Those guiding principles have helped me enormously with the emotional and mental blocks of dealing with stuff. But practically speaking, there is something I gleaned from Fly Lady , and that is the 27 Thing Boogie. I call it a 27 Thing Fling because I like it better. Simply go through your house (or area you want to purge within the house) with a bag and start flinging stuff in . Trash the obvious trash. Count pieces of trash. Take a different bag or box for giveaways. Keep counting where you left off with the trash. When you get to 27, stop. You will notice quite a difference.
I did that today in my master bedroom closet (a walk-in). Started at 1:30 and kept working at it till 5:30 . I pushed through the clutter until I had my quota of 27 things and a much-improved closet that can now breathe.
It feels good. Today it was better than a girls' day out or a day of swimming in the maddening sun, or
playing golf (which I don't know how to do and have no desire to learn). It was better today than taking a nap or a drive. It feels good to walk in victory over a besetting sin (that of mistrusting God) by letting go of the lies that evidence themselves in the mounds of stuff.
It's 6:20 and I'm alone, tired, and feeling accomplished. My hubby took the boy to our oldest son's place to swim in the community pool on this sweltering, humid day, and then the three of them were going to play golf. It's always a highlight when the little brother gets to be with his big married brother. He kept calling it a "guys' day."
My daughter drove to Ohio with two of her friends, and today they are having a girls' day out with the friend they went to visit.
My other son is at the beach with his girlfriend and her parents. I guess it's a couples' day out for them.
So, I looked myself in the mirror and asked, "Do you want a self's day out?" Self didn't answer, so I took it as a no. Self took one look at her bedroom closet and made a big decision. This would be the second of 12 days I get rid of 27 things. (This kills two birds with the proverbial one stone; purging 27 things 12 times is on my 101 in 1001 List. Is that enough numbers to throughly confuse you and your third cousin twice removed?)
A few years ago I came to realize that I had a big problem with stuff. Liking stuff too much. Collecting stuff. Thinking about stuff. Taking care of stuff. Ignoring stuff. Storing stuff. Stuffing stuff. It's not like stuff was piled up everywhere; I could usually contain it or close doors or drawers on stuff. I could push it to the perimeters and make things presentable. It's not like I was saving gross things or germy things. No, I wasn't the classic hoarder that we've all seen on TV. I wasn't dysfunctional nor did I collect rabbits, cats, dogs, or chickens.
But there was always the nagging feeling that I had too much, and I was failing to evaluate its importance. The task of deciding what to get rid of was overwhelming, so I blocked it out.
Occasionally I would get fed up and donate a bunch of stuff to Goodwill or a charity that sent a truck to my doorstep.
I read decluttering books. (Stacks of them.)
I read decluttering magazine articles (then kept the magazines).
I argued with hubby about what constitutes clutter and what doesn't. (Of course his memorabilia is clutter to me, but mine are keepsakes..Ahem)
I thought my generosity atoned for my greed.
Then a transformation began to take place. I don't remember exactly when, but God got ahold of my heart at a deep place and revealed that I had a serious trust poblem. He also showed me that I had made a lifelong habit of justifying my keeping of stuff.
For example, I doubted that He would supply all my needs, so I saved stuff in order to take care of myself. I justified it by saying I was just planning ahead.
I feared losing my memory, so I hoarded pictures, even blurry and dark and insignificant ones. I justified it by organizing all my photos by year, and only tossing the super bad ones. Never mind that others would never be worthy of a scrapbook or frame.
I doubted God's love and other people's love for me, so I saved greeting cards of every kind--happy birthday, thinking of you, get well, secret pal, Mother's Day, Merry Christmas, and happy anniversary. The affirming words would be there on my closet shelf in the event people stopped telling me I meant something to them.
I saved all kinds of things, from hotel soaps and shampoos to outgrown winter coats of the kids' I rationalized that I could give them away to some poor soul in need someday. Psychologists call this a savior complex. I called it "just being thoughtful and merciful." What I failed to tell myself the truth about was that, nobody how many things I supplied to other people in need, I would never be their Savior. And if I were to be asked to meet a need someday, would God not supply it for me to give? Saving a little is fine, but deep in my heart of hearts, I knew I was clutching and amassing stuff in order so that I would always be needed.
That was the reality and mentality I thought would be mine for life. Bondage to stuff with no way out.
But, thanks be to God, He had mercy on me and broke the chains. I would like to say that the change was so immediate and forceful that I got rid of all my stuff within a month of Goodwill trips. Or that there was a sudden shortage of full-size shampoo somewhere in the lower 48 states, thus rendering my one-ounce hotel bottles the saving grace of dirty hair everywhere.
Nope. It wasn't that easy, but it was a start to a new way of thinking.
Thinking the truth.
Believing the truth.
What's the truth?
1. God has always taken care of me and always will.
2. He will take care of everyone else, too, even if I never lift another finger to help.
3. He will love me forever, even if no one else does.
4. Other people do love me, but they are flawed like me, and fail to express their love verbally often just like I fail to do. Let people be people and just be the kind of person you want to have in your life.
5. The best pictures in my memory are clear as glass. The next-best ones are in scrapbooks or frames or on my blog.
6. Forgetting people and events someday if I get dementia, as painful and scary as that might be for me and others to realize, can't compare to the pain I cause the Lord every day when I'm in my right mind/ Daily I forget His benefits (His blessings). Forgetting, biblically speaking, is choosing not to remember. If I don't choose to remember them, I have forgotten them.
Those guiding principles have helped me enormously with the emotional and mental blocks of dealing with stuff. But practically speaking, there is something I gleaned from Fly Lady , and that is the 27 Thing Boogie. I call it a 27 Thing Fling because I like it better. Simply go through your house (or area you want to purge within the house) with a bag and start flinging stuff in . Trash the obvious trash. Count pieces of trash. Take a different bag or box for giveaways. Keep counting where you left off with the trash. When you get to 27, stop. You will notice quite a difference.
I did that today in my master bedroom closet (a walk-in). Started at 1:30 and kept working at it till 5:30 . I pushed through the clutter until I had my quota of 27 things and a much-improved closet that can now breathe.
It feels good. Today it was better than a girls' day out or a day of swimming in the maddening sun, or
playing golf (which I don't know how to do and have no desire to learn). It was better today than taking a nap or a drive. It feels good to walk in victory over a besetting sin (that of mistrusting God) by letting go of the lies that evidence themselves in the mounds of stuff.
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Hodgepodge 88 and Happy Bday on 8.8
8/8
This is a very special day. I gave birth to our third child, an 8-pound boy, 21 years ago. He had one single curl at the nape of his neck, and I felt his name should have to do with his head, in a biblical leadership way.
We named him Stephen, which means "crowned one," and I have to say he has been crowned with many blessings, including a cute face below that crown, a good mind inside that crown, and some adorable wispy curls on top of that crown that made him look like Einstein until the age of two. That's when his daddy heard someone say, "Oh, what a cute little girl you have" and the only child with him was his cute little boy. Out came the scissors to the crown of "baby Feegan" (as his older sister called him).
-----
There are 8 questions in the Hodgepodge. Oh, boy, all these 8's. So how about this? For a self-challenge, I will keep all my answers to 8 words today. No more, no fewer. Think it's possible?
Let's see.
This is a very special day. I gave birth to our third child, an 8-pound boy, 21 years ago. He had one single curl at the nape of his neck, and I felt his name should have to do with his head, in a biblical leadership way.
We named him Stephen, which means "crowned one," and I have to say he has been crowned with many blessings, including a cute face below that crown, a good mind inside that crown, and some adorable wispy curls on top of that crown that made him look like Einstein until the age of two. That's when his daddy heard someone say, "Oh, what a cute little girl you have" and the only child with him was his cute little boy. Out came the scissors to the crown of "baby Feegan" (as his older sister called him).
-----
There are 8 questions in the Hodgepodge. Oh, boy, all these 8's. So how about this? For a self-challenge, I will keep all my answers to 8 words today. No more, no fewer. Think it's possible?
Let's see.
1. In an effort to combat obesity, the mayor of NYC has plans to
ban the sale of large sugary drinks (anything over 16 oz.), initially in
restaurants, movie theatres, and street carts. Corner stores would also be
affected if they are defined as food service establishments. You can read more
here
. Your thoughts?
Government shouldn't decide who sells what to eat.
2. Art festival, music festival, food festival...which would you most like
to attend?
An art festival with a large, sugary drink.
3. What are you irrational about?
I might get sucked under a moving escalator.
4. Do you feel confident you'll have a comfortable retirement?
I think so. We've saved a good bit.
5. What's been your favorite Olympic moment so far?
(Not ever, just in the 2012 Summer games)
James won first ever medal for Grenada. Gold!
6. What would you label as the messiest room in your house?
Until today, my daughter's. Relocated to her classroom.
7. Do you follow your heart or your head?
It's changed from heart to head over time.
8. Insert your own random thought here.
I'm not used to limiting words. Go me!
Friday, August 03, 2012
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