A life we're not living

Parked my car in the garage last night.

Gonna park it there again tonight.

Big deal, right? After all, it's mortgaged square footage set aside for that very reason. And while I'm not a huge fan of having my car so close to my kitchen - I'd much rather re-purpose the space to use for entertaining instead - I do appreciate not having to scrape frost from windshields at 7 a.m. on cold January mornings.

The big deal for me in all this is that I used to not be able to park in the garage at all, thanks to heaps of clutter: stuff, junk, collections, jumble.

Whatever you want to call it, it was once in the way.

A dark and narrow path.

It's much better now, but not great. As I've said before, we've lived in this little house for more than 10 years now and a complete re-do, clean-up and organization of the garage has never happened. It has become one of those projects that gets put off ... and off ... and off ...

But it needs to be done.

And so in the spirit of this new year, when so much motivation gets hefted toward organizing our lives, we do plan to finally give this space the attention it desperately deserves.

And that means some stuff's gotta go.

I wonder sometimes, How can three people accumulate so much junk?

The fact is, I know darn good and well how: by not clearing out old things as new things come in. It's a habit begun years ago, back in the early days of our first home together, a big, old house with lots of rooms and spaces. My husband and I (mostly me) set about filling it with antiques and collections. The house that had been so empty and echo-y evolved into a fun, eclectic home.

And then we moved ... to a much, much smaller space.

All those cherished items we (mostly I) had lovingly collected moved right along with us and into garage storage. I couldn't bear to part with anything just in case. Just in case we bought a bigger house. Just in case the items proved to be of value. Just in case I ever needed to use them again. Just in case I might regret letting go.

I was holding on to the material possessions of a life we were no longer living. By doing so, I was depriving myself of full immersion into the life I was currently living.

And scraping a lot of winter windshields.

That gorgeous red suit I used to wear to job interviews? About three sizes too small. I held on to that suit for 10 years just in case. Just in case I ever lost enough weight for it to fit again. Just in case I ever needed to confidently dazzle a la 2001.

In reality, it was taking up precious closet real estate my current suits needed - you know, the ones I actually wear to the job I now have in the life I actually live. And so the red suit was donated so another confident woman with a great figure could dazzle the world.

Letting go of stuff means we have to do some self-reflection. It requires we take a look at the life we are living and ask ourselves, does this thing have a place ... a place of use, function, sentiment? Does it keep me from making room for other, more pertinent necessities? Am I holding on to the past? Do I still want that life, that dress size, these things - or am I ready to embrace this life, this body, this present?

That's some pretty heavy discernment.

Or, hell, you could just blindly toss it in the donation stack and haul it away.

After all, it's only stuff.

Some day there will be room to store deck furniture out of the harsh winter elements. Today is not that day.