As I examine my own life, I’m painfully aware that I collect. I collect things. “Stuff.” Some of which hold little purpose for me. Or maybe outlived itself.
Clothes that no longer fit. Papers that need “filed.” Things that require fixing. And the many other things that are “great deals,” and bittersweet memories.
Things take up space. Change the energy in our lives. Make us feel bad about letting things get so bad. Rob us of joy. Overwhelm us.
I also collect people. A true extravert.
And like things, sometimes people that are in our lives hang around (figuratively or literally) and exhaust us. Draining us from all the energy we have. Tossing onto our own piles of shit, that which they want someone else to deal with (again both literally and figuratively).
And rob us of joy and overwhelm us.
I also collect thoughts. A thinker.
And I think too much sometimes. What if. Forgetting that I simply need to live in the moment.
Racing, overwhelming thoughts rob me of sleep and the joy of the next day.
Time to de-clutter.
Things. People. Thoughts.
I’d really rather not be a good candidate for the show, “Hoarders.”
In my space. In my life. Or in my head.