For most of my life I've been an "excessivist." I know that's not a real word, but I suspect any readers can gather a definition. It's someone who lives a lifestyle of excess, whether it be in addiction, material possession, whatever. I had a lot of things. I couldn't imagine ever willingly disposing of them because of who I used to be. The old me wouldn't have done it, but a series of experiences has altered my identity and with it came a new desire to purge myself of my past.
It's quite liberating in a powerfully subdued sort of way. We often hear the benefits of simplifying our lifestyles beginning with removing unnecessary clutter that splits our focus and burdens us with energy depletion. But more times than not when we hear those words of wisdom which require such a 360, it leaves us spiraling into an emotional panic, not unlike the emotional equilibrium we're being promised. If we can't even hear it, we're not ready to undergo such a change.
The truth is that if we grudgingly agreed to simplify our lives outside of our desires, perhaps as a result of outside influences, it isn't nearly as rewarding and can even result in resentment for what could feel like a coercion. And that's crazy because most people will probably forget about the things that are gone because it's too exhausting to stay angry about something we know we won't get back. And yet we cling to our material possessions, hopelessly, irrationally. And while it may seem like once our things are gone that there's room for positive change and growth, I don't believe we can maximize those results unless the desires are coming from within.
I've changed so much and as angry as I could be in the past, I'm not really like that anymore. However I can't always seem to let go of the anger that I felt in the past cuz it's still a part of me. I only feel how I felt then. I just don't relive it anymore. But when I'm reminded of it, the wisdom and emotional maturity that allows me to stay level-headed when I'm confronted with similar situations now doesn't seem to permeate my past.
My foster mom once bitched and bitched until I agreed to get rid of some things. I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to. When I think back at that moment, even now, I simmer with anger and sadness. She manipulated me into doing what she felt was best, while completely disregarding my feelings. How can people think it's okay to act selfishly out of consideration? It's an oxy moron and undermines a person. As a desperate act to silence her, I agreed to get rid of some things only to go downstairs in tears grabbing my first pair of ballet slippers now soiled by the trash mixed in.
At that point in my life, ballet was my only escape from my Hellish life. Throwing away the only physical evidence that comforted me was a personal attack to me. It was vicious, cruel, and spiteful. I know that wasn't her intent, but you never know the emotional attachment people have to things.
Yes, it is better to let things go. But what happens when you force yourself to get over someone or something when you aren't ready? When you put yourself in a situation you aren't properly prepared for? Adverse consequences can result. There's no right approach for everyone because each of us are so different. So it's important to listen to the person you're trying to help. And if it means waiting until they're ready, that's what should be done. I know many adults who I suspect will never allow themselves the de-cluttering process, and it's truly tragic. But the truth is that, as adults, it's their right to sustain a damaging lifestyle and it's not our place to thwart that.
Certain people have the power to vastly influence me to do things beyond my personal preference and it could've be exploited to ultimately better myself by forcing a premature de-cluttering process. I would've forgotten my things were gone. But I would've quickly replaced the missing pieces with new parts because I wouldn't have learned the lessons from that process. Or I would've moved on with life without ever fully experiencing the benefits of the purging process and I can't emphasize the immeasurable value of that.
At the mature age of 27, I began removing the material excesses of my life. I've started late last year and I haven't even come close to completing this project. I don't feel rushed to get it done, though, because I want to savor each moment of gratitude I experience as they come along. Some days I rapidly dispose and sometimes I'll go weeks until I'm ready to tackle a therapeutic but still very draining process.
I feel rejuvenated by this de-cluttering process which is such a cathartic experience, and I've been hungering to express it. But now that I have the opportunity, I find myself pleasantly blocked from being able to convey it in words. I've come to appreciate when I'm unable to articulate meaningful things because it makes them more special. Not everything has to be explained. All I know is how I feel.
I feel like I'm slowly being released from this form of prison I enslaved myself to. I'm learning to let go as my vision expands far beyond the horizon. I feel lighter in essence. Liberated. But in an intense sort of way. Sometimes it's great to feel powerfully liberated when the concentration of energy is just as intense as the toxicity I experienced. But right now I appreciate the subtle effects of this because I'm not overwhelmed. I'm able to absorb the benefits. I'm in the present because this positive change is progressing slowly. I'm more aware. As a result, I'm not frightened so I'm receptive. I don't need to take a break and regroup as much.
It's flowing energy of change. Instead of being this thrashing waterfall, I'm this stream of river. I find waterfalls to be more attractive and people tend to gravitate towards it more. It's bigger, bolder, flashier. But rivers travel to more places, quietly and flowingly, and touches so much more than the waterfall.