That’s a decent-sized number. It’s one that I’m quite proud of, especially when remembering all the hard work it took to become acquainted with it.
Purge after purge after purge. Less and less junk filling my home; bursting at my closets’ seams; invading, not only my physical, but also my mental space.
It wasn’t always easy. Saying goodbye never is, I suppose. There were times when it hurt. . . bad. But only at first. Each time I finally let go of one more piece of the anchor that clutched my ankles and bore down on my shoulders, holding me in one place, preventing me from living the life I knew I could live, I felt another burst of freedom. Of air.
I could breathe. I could do anything.
I was no longer tied to those outgrown possessions that tirelessly labored to imprint themselves on my identity. Trying to figure out who I was becoming was already challenging enough without them. They would only hold me back.
Some things got replaced with better ones, non-broken ones, more relevant ones, or more practical ones. Then there were those who just made their exit, never to be seen again. It’s ironic to think that those least used and least favored items were actually my favorite of all. They, the ones that didn’t get replaced, were the ones that carried me that much closer to less. To enough.
And I have to say, it felt good. Every step of the way.
$4,600.00 is my current total of money made from letting go.
To think I was just sitting on items that could total a sum like that–stuff that I hadn’t used, or even looked at, in years. Items that were forgotten. Junk I outgrew. Crap that I no longer wanted, but didn’t think I could part with. The mental weight of that was unreal. Something had to be done.
So I did it.
And, I don’t like to brag, but I think I’ve done rather well when it comes to this. And the kicker is, there’s still so much more to be done!
I know some people think I’m crazy. Heck, I probably would’ve thought that about someone like me several years ago, so I can’t say that I blame them.
Some people actually get angry at the way I choose to live, at my letting go. Can you believe that? Anger. Over something that, in no way, pertains to or affects them. It makes me sad that so many people fume and breed negativity–whether vocally or mentally–towards this lifestyle while it continues to bring me so much joy. Maybe it’s because they assume I am judging them for choosing more. I’m not. I can’t. Their choices aren’t up to me.
All I know is, the anger has yet to hold me back, and I’ll never let it. I’ll just continue to be me and live the life I feel I’ve been called to live. That’s all any of us can do.
We’re all different, and we all are called to different things. This is my thing. My life. And I’m not so sure the rest of the world should, or even can, tell me how to live it.
The journey is different for everyone, and thankfully so. How boring would life be if we were all the same?
Instead of breeding negativity and anger towards those who are different, let’s instead choose to celebrate our differences and learn from one another. No one person has it all figured out.
I know I don’t.