I am constantly fighting the mindset that saving things is a good thing. It sounds like a good thing, saving. It’s a word that makes you feel like you’re doing something right.
But, sometimes what you are doing is crazy.
I had around 100 good and plenty boxes. Empty ones. I didn’t want to throw them out, there had to a use for them. A use that I would stumble upon one day.
Those boxes took up a large bookshelf for five years.
I finally threw them out a few months ago.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about repurposing.
But there is a point at which you must stop yourself. A point at which you realize that you are hoarding things. Giving things value that they don’t deserve.
In fact, those boxes represented negative value. For FIVE years they charged me rent. For FIVE years they resided in that bookshelf while a stack of books squatted chaotically on the floor.
For five years they took up space. For five years they stared at me. And, for five years I felt guilt over my ownership of them.
They collected dust. And I collected guilt.
A few months ago I moved back into my dad’s house. There they were, staring at me. Judging me. How had I let it get this far?
I had made fun of my dad’s borderline hoarding. And all along I had this dirty secret.
I threw them out, and 10 ounces of cardboard felt like two tons lifted from my shoulders.
Now I am constantly chasing that high. Today I got rid of half of my clothes. This freedom I feel is the only thing that’s free.
I discovered KonMari, I got rid of so many things. Things that could find better homes elsewhere. Other people would be happy to pay the rent for these things to be in their homes.
And I was free.