This year I'm determined to lose LOTS of things. STUFF. But it's not just stuff-stuff. There are several layers of physical, emotional, spiritual and relational stuff that need to go. Forty pounds, things for a house and life I no longer occupy, all of my ideas on "how things should be," the excuses about why I can't do the things I long to do (and get better at doing), like writing. And negativity and bitterness about all the aforementioned. I want to feel FREE of all of it. A new blog seemed like a good way to work on - and through - all of these things.
If you know me, the fact that I've started anything called a "minimalism journey" will make you roll your eyes, laugh, and/or breathe sigh of relief. Any combination of those three. But as they say: When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. My teachers appeared on YouTube. I've been studying, dreaming, and WORKING on it. I have Mt. Stuffmore in my garage now, waiting for a sale. I have empty drawers!! I'm ready, and I'm doing it. Correction - starting to do it.
I thought my first post might be about the long weekend I spent alternating between building Mt. Stuffmore and watching old home movies, and how the weight of all those things (in person and on film) buried the life I once had, and the life I could have had. But there's a lot to unpack there (pardon the pun) - that one's going to take awhile.
Today is January 23rd. "THAT DAY MY MOM DIED." This year I spent most of January remembering, and then forgetting, this date. That alone strikes me as monumental, like I've really progressed in my grief or something. I mean, not really - it's been 12 years and the other day I watched those old home movies of Ella as a baby, and there was one 10-second clip of Mom and Ella both fast asleep in a chair and it instantly switched on the ugly, hyperventilating, rocking-back-and-forth sobbing, like we just lost her yesterday.
All day long I've wanted to post "This day doesn't define her." Along with pics of what does define her - her family, friends, memories of her on a dance floor, her being HER, the things she taught (and continues to teach) us. But as I thought about that, what I came to realize is that actually, this day doesn't define ME any more. That's why I'm able to sporadically forget about it. That's why I don't want to memorialize it or grieve it in its own right anymore.
So as I start this blog about lightening up, this seems like a perfect place to start. I'm ready to let this day go. Like a lot of things, I'm not sure why I even held on to it for this long. This day will never be more important than any other day filled with reasons to miss her, laugh with her, and thank her for everything.
