This past weekend, I helped my older daughter move into her new duplex, which she obtained because she has a new job on the west side of the state. The weekend before, I had helped her load up the truck with her belongings, organizing the boxes and furniture after she and her friends brought them down from her second-floor apartment.
I was impressed then and now by how little stuff she had to move. She has a couple of pieces of furniture; some clothing; kitchen items; books and papers; a few photos and prints; a few knick-knacks (but not many). She didn’t have a TV until just now, when one of her classmates decided to hand it down rather than move it back to New York.
And settling her in, I continued to be impressed by her resistance to acquiring new things for her new place. Oh, she’ll get new curtains, since the old ones won’t fit, and she’ll probably get new towels. But other than that, she is already showing some strong indications of living light. For that matter, when she travels, she packs light too; I think there’s a pattern.
So that all got me thinking anew about stuff, and all the stuff I don’t need around my house and in my life. I am still incorporating the furniture I inherited from my uncle earlier this year, and most of those pieces are truly worth keeping. But, at the same time, other things I have had, some of them perhaps for years, are not.
I traveled a bit too much this summer to make as much headway as I wanted in the cleaning and purging projects I want to accomplish while the weather is still fine. I have eliminated many boxes and baskets already, and there is still much more to do. As much as I am motivated to do all of this, I still find it stressful to let go, and so it’s best if I can engage in it when there’s some good weather and sunshine encouraging me along.
I have, for example, boxes and boxes and boxes of files related to my dissertation research and to my university teaching to cull. I finished my dissertation over eight years ago, and though the topic would be suitable for a book, and timely as well with the centennial of the institution I covered right around the corner (so to speak—seven years from now) I probably will never return to it. And yet it is hard to let it all go. I feel as though I have to review all those files very carefully first, which is of course why I haven’t done it yet.
And although I enjoyed some aspects of teaching very much indeed, I cannot see much value in holding on to the materials and syllabi I created. Academia moves fast, and if I were ever to re-enter that domain, I’d have to reconsider the readings and assignments I used anyway. Perhaps my best creations from that stretch of work are my course websites, and from what I understand they are permanently archived by the university, for whatever use I might eventually make of them.
These are just two, albeit fairly significant, examples of what is bogging me down. Much of it is indeed “paperwork” of one kind or another. (To say nothing of the books themselves!) I might indeed enjoy making a bonfire of it all. And at the same time, I am still regretful that I tossed out a large box of memorabilia from my adolescence many years ago now—letters from friends, diary notes, scrapbook items, photos…. I can’t even remember what was in the box now to know how much I should miss it!
Please join me below the jump for consideration of other, more difficult, issues related to letting go.
As long as I am talking about letting go, there are also, of course, relationship issues to resolve. I have one friend of fairly long standing, for example, who was out of my life for about fifteen years after we had been friends for about ten. From what I can recall, no one issue or dispute prompted the silence, though to be honest, I think there were many undercurrents that neither one of us wanted to address way back then. A few years ago, we encountered each other by chance, both of us having undergone significant changes in personal circumstances in the meantime. At that moment, we were very happy to have rediscovered each other again, and for a little while we spent a fair amount of time together, even for holiday celebrations.
But more recently, particularly after my illness, the old distance has reappeared. It might be because my friend had another very good friend who died of cancer right around the time I was diagnosed. It might also be simply because we have fallen out of synch again. Last year, I called her up and suggested that we get together for her birthday; her reply was that she was too busy moving—something I did not know about—and she didn’t offer any alternate date. (I had helped her move the last time she did it and would not have offered to help again. One of the worst, most disorganized moves ever.) Even if she had, it would have been probable for her to call things off at the last minute. So now I am wondering whether simply to let things atrophy just as they have been doing. I don’t have the energy to devote to processing thirty years of history, especially since there’s absolutely no indication that she's interested in doing so either.
I’m trying, not very successfully I’m afraid, not to attach fault or blame here, but merely to accept this situation as it is and not make it into anything more. It’s not a referendum on my character, or hers, that we’re not in regular contact again.
And, fortunately for me, other friends from my youth and young adulthood have now reappeared. So perhaps there’s simply a cycle for me to accept with all of these comings and goings. There’s nothing to be gained by me in excessive attachment; better to enjoy the moment with the people who are interested in me and vice-versa.
So, these are my questions for you tonight. What do you feel necessary to relinquish, either of material goods, personal goals, or relationships? What prompts you to make these decisions? And, a message I hear often from many different sources simultaneously: letting go of what no longer serves us then makes room for what is beneficial and healing. What are you hoping will appear in lieu of what you have chosen to let go?
Monday Night Cancer Club is a Daily Kos group focused on dealing with cancer, primarily for cancer survivors and caregivers, though clinicians, researchers, and others with a special interest are also welcome. Volunteer diarists post Monday evenings between 7-8 PM ET on topics related to living with cancer, which is very broadly defined to include physical, spiritual, emotional and cognitive aspects. Mindful of the controversies endemic to cancer prevention and treatment, we ask that both diarists and commenters keep an open mind regarding strategies for surviving cancer, whether based in traditional, Eastern, Western, allopathic or other medical practices. This is a club no one wants to join, in truth, and compassion will help us make it through the challenge together.