This has been a time of transition. In the midst of losing Pete’s father, we moved house. We’d planned our move for the beginning of February prior to any inkling of what would eventually transpire with Dennis. This turned out to be a welcome blessing that distracted us from being distracted. And, while there have been many other blessings accompanying these transitions, I plan to write about those later, after we have the memorial service planned for later this week behind us.
During these weeks my thoughts have often turned to the role of our personal effects in life. What we do with our stuff. What meaning we assign to our things, and the distractions we endure from what matters because we’re dealing with belongings.
A move confronts you with everything you own. Doing this in the stark relief of emotional loss makes you think about what owns you. And you must come to grips with what you’ll eventually leave behind.
I thought I might deal with all this more easily, seeing as how I’d already downsized significantly when we combined houses almost five years ago. Then, I was upset that getting rid of my stuff was upsetting. Wandering through the estate sale comprised of things from the household I had made for the children and myself, seeing my life spread out on tabletops, everything neatly arranged and priced, was as if I myself had passed on. In a sense, the former me had done so, and the me-to-be mourned her. So here I was again, on the threshold of this latest move, saying hello to familiar feelings.
Despite the great attention currently paid to having too much stuff, as well as the emphasis on defining how much is too much, most of us continue to acquire. We may rein in our acquisitions with greater awareness, but the simple fact is we own a lot by comparison with the rest of the world. And, we must care for the belongings we have. If we don’t, we’re said to be “letting things go.” And of course, letting go is also what many of us can’t bring ourselves to do.
The human brain defaults to classification mode in its attempts to understand. We need to know what goes with what so we can know where we belong within the mix. Reconciling the voluntary act of letting things go inevitably leads to the associations we’ve made and assigned to our stuff.
We derive comfort from these associations. For example, our beautiful antique china cabinet (shown here on the charity’s showroom floor) held the glasses with which we toasted those we love, and the dishes on which we served many a celebration. Pete’s workshop had tools his grandfather used. I have traveled through the last thirty years toting around an unassuming little paper punch and green-handled needlenose pliers that were my father’s. They’re all old friends.
The disposition and organization of things brings our associations to the forefront. When we simplify and get rid of stuff, it can feel like we are dishonoring experiences and people with whom our things are associated. Are we letting it all go if we let the things go? The china cabinet and its contents had layers of associations. There was the cabinet, and then there were the things inside it. All this made it even harder.
These associations are extremely influential on our behavior. Even though our heads may be ready, our hearts may want to hold on. I tried out many different scenarios – could we keep the china cabinet if we used it in another room or for another purpose? After all, when newly single I had used it in my bedroom where it held my sweaters. Could something like that be done again to keep it with me? Pete suggested there was room in the new dining room for the china cabinet’s partner, the antique buffet. Except I’d already come to grips with giving it up and created a plan for that room. Slowly I traveled in my mind toward the inevitable.
I began to better understand why some people can’t throw anything away. Their associations are just as intense for something we might think is inconsequential – a random greeting card, or even a plate of uncovered food – as mine were for the antique furniture. They think in terms of scarcity, of needing it someday, of not having enough at some other time long gone. In the face of such uncertainties, of what might happen, stuff must be kept.
Equally intense associations for everything must be exhausting. No wonder the inertia with some people! I can’t imagine the level of stimulation coming from being surrounded by all those things and would need to withdraw.
Too much stuff in a place makes me nervous. I feel stricken and made claustrophobic by the disorganization. I watch the television shows about people who hoard with equal parts fascination and nausea. It must help viewers to feel that “there but by the grace of God go I.” Collections and displays feel better to me in store windows and museums. Is this because I was admonished as a child not to touch? Perhaps. But even more so, I’m aware that my associating with this many things would lead to impossible levels of fatigue. The clutter is noise.
As we packed and prepared, one thought brought focus during my struggle with what things meant and what needed to be done with them:
“Life is no less vivid with fewer things.”
I looked back on other periods during my life in which I’d lived in smaller places with less: a shared dorm room, my first apartment – a basement studio, a one-level house. Things were not the reason my experiences were intense. Things were around while I was living life, and keeping them reminded me of what I’d been through. Was I worrying that when I got rid of the things, would I also lose the memories? Now we were getting somewhere, me, myself and I.
We keep things to hold onto the past, to mitigate the sense of loss for what was or might have been, all of which comes with the passage of time. It’s why we inevitably retrieve photo albums during a fire, and why I could have used a quick drink before a box containing hundreds of old, sepia-toned family photos was discarded. Note: if you don’t know who’s in them, it’s okay to let them go.
I made valiant efforts to transfer things to the care of others, too. We returned childhood possessions we were keeping to the appropriate children. (We still have more of this to do). Appeals went out: “Are you sure you don’t want the wicker furniture?” “Who knows who is in these family pictures?” Invariably, the appeals were all declined, and no one knew. Even so, there were pangs of reluctance: my brother recognized our grandmother’s table in a batch of donations publicized on social media by the charity we used. A wistful, philosophical conversation ensued on saying goodbye.
When we pass to the next life, we leave behind all our personal effects. They’re gathered up – handbag, wallet, parking stub, shopping list, jewelry – and held for disposition. The furnishings, clothing, and food in the fridge. The uncompleted project, the unfinished letter. Since we rarely know the moment, it’s safe to say others will make the decisions about all our stuff. My own mother was very direct with her intention: “I’m leaving it all for you to deal with when I’m gone.” She did and we did, which is one of the reasons I don’t want to do the same.
Leaving things tidy feels like a great gift I can give to others at this point in my life. This concept never occurred to me when I was younger, perhaps because my personal effects were fewer and life was more simple and straightforward (consequently?). Somewhere along the way, the inventory swelled and life slowed – a combination that spawns clutter in one’s circumstances, and, I believe, in one’s mind, leading to overwhelm. This kind of messy leaving, with one’s things in disarray or great number, feels like blatant disregard to me.
I’ve been thinking I’d rather my “personal effects” be less tangible and more transient – the first gaze into an infant’s eyes, the way it feels when a task is well done, the beauty of a sunrise, a knowing laugh or the recognition of a kindred spirit.
Today I sit in a space we deliberately chose with more simplicity in mind for our life going forward. Pete and I engineered a reduction in our personal effects to make room for more of what’s important to us now. These priorities promise a less distracted existence, in which we have more freedom to choose and focus on what and whom we care for. This evaluating, these reductions, and yes, these outright eliminations in our inventory of belongings will ensure our energy going forward is devoted to what matters. We’re feeling a lightness that is very right, even with the boxes marked “History” that are stacked in the garage.
What about you? What’s the state of your stuff?
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Peter and Betsy Wuebker are location-independent professionals who share what they know about travel, simplicity and integrating work with life. 
Great post. Thank you for sharing. Today I shredded another year of my mother’s paperwork which only needed to be kept for 5 years, she died nearly 3 years ago. She was a consummate teacher – My parents moved 22 times in their married life, and each time my mum consolidated her “personal effects” She taught me to take pictures of all the flowers I received as gifts so that I could enjoy them. IT Girl made her a slide show of her pictures with beautiful music that she enjoyed her last 9 months before death, on my laptop. She loved letters and email was even better. She had me pack and mail a box of some treasure to each grandchild and child and the few remaining things went to a charity to help pay for seniors health care needs. I carted all that away the week after her death.
After the hurricane in New Orleans …I got an external drive and I save my pictures and marriage lic. and documents there every week – If there is a disaster I hopefully can grab the zip drive.
I am not attached to many things. HERE is our major marriage disagreement zone: my partner can hardly release anything….including not wanting the children to go out on their own….he is proud of them, and I think likes them better than when they were teens, but he wants them to want his things…
I am so ready to be free of the 300 stuffed toy penguins in IT Girls room – I think she would release them, if I would sell them for her….I have not a successful entrepreneurial bone in my body and no mind for it…I am so ready to downsize – so ready
It is not very hard for me to let go of “things” – it is too easy in my family’s judgment – Almost no “thing” has huge amounts of meaning to me – truly
Patricia has an awesome blog post here: MEN IN TREES
Hi Patricia – It’s hard to be at odds, with yourself or someone else, about what to do with things. Pete and I, while mostly on the same page, each stumbled when it came to certain items. There’s no real logic involved, just emotion. And you allude to this observation I’ve made as well: hanging onto things is an attempt to stop time or change. Interesting to think about. Thanks.
Betsy,
a silver lining
I think perfectionists tend to want to get everything settled and perfect and then avoid change at all costs. Some of these traits become worse with age – about 70% of the population’s thinking becomes more rigid with age. It takes a great deal of work and effort to keep one’s brain in flexible thinking mode – only about 4% of the population can achieve this or maintain this at the time of death. I am so happy my partner’s thinking is so flexible about greening up the planet and net-zero design.
Patricia has an awesome blog post here: MEN IN TREES
Hi Patricia – What an interesting observation about perfectionism. I think closure plays a role, as well – as in, “my work on these surroundings is now done” or something close to that. And yes, as we age, we do get set in our ways. I couldn’t begin to imagine what that meant when I was younger, but now I am confronted with it in myself all the time.
Hi Betsy .. I can see what you’re going through and feel for you – but things seems to be working out & Pete sounds a wonderful sounding board and on the same wave length .. that must help hugely.
I downsized and got rid of most things .. because I thought I’d end up with my mother’s things and then I could decide what to do etc .. but life took a turn as it does .. and the family had an offer for my mother’s flat and decided to sell.
So – given no choice – I got on with it .. one brother didn’t bother to come, granted he is busy, and the other brother was totally disinterested and disdaining.
The furniture went to one of Mum’s ex workers for their son & family – 2nd child on the way .. and the chap buying the flat said he’d clear the rest and what he didn’t want.
I couldn’t get the furniture up here .. but I’ve got all the books, some odds and ends .. and now need to sort those, as well as clear the rest of the stuff I never managed to sort from my own home.
I’m quite practical and get on with it .. but that’s me .. and if necessary I’ll start again once I’m free .. less to worry about at least!
I hope the Memorial Service is a happy time .. I’m sure it will be celebrating Dennis’ life … with love and thoughts to you both – Hilary
Hilary has an awesome blog post here: Spring – the season of new growth- abundant change
Hi Hilary – Yes, for the most part I think I’m practical and want to keep moving forward, so my difficulties with things are magnified when they occur. Thank you for the loving thoughts. They are so appreciated.
I would add the our greatest downsizing has been eliminating home ownership. There is a great peace of mind that comes from renting, of not possessing this one giant thing. Because there is now more time. No more lawn mowing, snow blowing, painting, repairing. I love being able to skip the Home Depot and Menard’s ads in our Sunday paper filled with all sorts of DIY things to improve or more likely repair our house.
And if a repair is required, I have the landlord’s phone number and my Nook.
PETER has an awesome blog post here: Cancer the Crab Astrology Embroidered Cap
Yes, dear, time freedom, to spend it in the ways we want, is a huge luxury and a worthy goal. I’m glad we set the objective.
Hi Pete and Betsy .. how sensible .. I too, in fact, am renting .. and I didn’t worry about the snow over the winter!! Bliss .. I do worry about the lack of gardening here – no care .. but it’s not mine and others have that responsibility ..
Good for you .. makes a change?! Cheers Hilary
Hilary has an awesome blog post here: Spring – the season of new growth- abundant change
Hi Hilary – One of the issues was how will we garden? In pots, is the answer! And if we want, we can always put some things in up at the cabin, as well. I’m thinking I’ll much enjoy walking through the gardens in other places, tended by someones else.
Hi Betsy and Pete,
Having just gone through a move myself, I have to admit that I, like Patricia, am not attached to things or my old house for that matter. I didn’t feel one ounce of sadness when driving away from our old house for the last time. Keith, when referring to our old house, is actually calling it “Geneva” which is the house we lived in two houses ago. How weird is that?
I can only surmise that we were truly ready to leave that part of our lives. It is refreshing! I am grateful that we still want to spend the next part of our lives with each other and that it seems we are transitioning through this side by side.
Love to you. We will see you Saturday.
Mary
Hi Mary – No attachment to the old house here, either, as you might have suspected.
I was happy to hear Pete say again last night that this has been a great move for us. And you’re right, having the person you most want to spend your life with at your side is definitely something to be grateful for! We are looking forward to seeing you, too, not only on Saturday, but at the other events we have planned. xo
I love this:
“I’ve been thinking I’d rather my ‘personal effects’ be less tangible and more transient – the first gaze into an infant’s eyes, the way it feels when a task is well done, the beauty of a sunrise, a knowing laugh or the recognition of a kindred spirit.”
With my mother’s Alzheimer’s and dementia, I’ve watched her memories fade and warp, including those about stuff, so I like the more zen approach in your words.
Lori Hoeck has an awesome blog post here: Self defense and emergency thinking skills
Hi Lori – I was hoping you would weigh in on the subject of memory, as it is something you vividly deal with every day with your Mom. I am glad my thoughts on its transiency resonated with you. Thank you.
Betsy, you struck a lot of chords with a lot of folks on this one. It brought up grief in me remembering my going through my mother’s things after her surgery when the doctors expected her to die (she didn’t). I went through them knowing if she did die I wouldn’t have the mind or energy to focus. When 10 years later she was moved to a nursing home I could step back and allow the attorney in charge to do the sorting and moving with few regrets for not having done it myself. When my father was dying with brain cancer he cleared out his house, handed me a couple of sacks of stuff he intended to trash, and I sorted through those insignificant items, artists pens, drafting equipment no one else wanted. Sad, that. When I moved into my van and things went into storage I had to pare down what could only fit into my van. Now I have the bare essentials and it seems like so much.
I don’t know that it’s the stuff, as you say, but the intense feelings we assign it. I hang onto 25 years of mini-tape cassettes, my first interviews, and stories I’ve long forgotten I’ve written. They were so powerful. Good post – and I hope things go smoothly, if intensely, for your transition.
Becky Blanton has an awesome blog post here: 8 Strategies for When You’re Booked Solid
Hi Becky – You’re so right about dealing with things ahead of time as opposed to the burden of doing so when under the siege of grief. And how poignant the memory of being disappointed by what your father chose to give you. Whatever could he have meant?
Dis-appointment – the word implies the undoing of an important association. We so hope to be significant in return with the people who are so important to us, don’t we? And our significant things – like the articles and tapes you mention – hold what we most hope to be remembered by, too.
It’s funny I would have my dad’s paper punch and pliers, and nothing much else, after all these years. I guess I must like to think of them in the grasp of his capable hands. The man could fix anything, and that’s what most everyone recognized him for. Thanks for making me think of this.
Hii Betsy .. I’d forgotten you’d still got the cabin .. and will still be out and about – delighted to hear Pete concur re the appropriateness of the move .. pots = yes – but much more fun to visit gardens around and as you say see others’ hard work!!
Cheers .. Hilary
Hilary has an awesome blog post here: Content is King – is it not How about Passion
Hi Hilary – The cabin is shared with the rest of the family, and Pete has already expressed that he hopes it doesn’t become a catch-all, or as he put it, a “dumping ground,” for everything that we all don’t know what to do with. And yes, the tendency has been, “well, let’s take it up to the cabin” but the cabin is already fully furnished and has been outfitted with the best of everything over the years. I did send some placemats and linens up with his sister before we moved. As with everything, bringing something in may require moving something out – logistically a little more difficult to dispose or sell up there. So then we wind up carting stuff back and forth. I was hoping we all can get to the point where most everything we would need is up there, so that we don’t have to load the jeep up or pull the little trailer every time we go, transporting any number of things. We’re not there yet and probably won’t be for a good while.
Hello Everyone who is reading this – Many people are grappling with this issue of how much is enough. One of the bloggers I read regularly, The Nester, whose niche is home decor, has been discussing this issue from the perspective of one who has been in acquisition mode for quite some time. (She is younger than Pete and I are.
) Recently, she came to grips with her thrift store/garage sale habit and really looked at everything in her house. Here’s what happened: http://www.thenester.com/2010/10/31-days-how-i-decluttered-and-got-rid-of-stuff-i-liked-but-didnt-need.html
http://www.thenester.com/2011/02/final-thoughts-on-thrifting.html
Hi Betsy,
How ironic I should be reading this post now. Just this past week when one of our daughters was visiting I suggested we go through OLD family albums. She was excited about it considering she’d get to see those old photos she had forgotten about. I was excited for the fact I was getting rid of *some* of the old photos. I had her help me sort through them all, put them in piles for each of the kids and when she left, she took hers. WooHoo!
Like you said, the shows on hoarding are eye opening. In one sense, I’m sure some people are saying, “Well, I’m not THAT bad”, but for me, they inspire a desire to simplify to bare bones.
Our neighbor shared a story with me about a friend of hers who had read we should get rid of everything we don’t love. She ended up divorcing her husband, selling 90% of the stuff in her house and said she was happier than she had ever been – even though she was left with no furniture. It just goes to show we don’t need stuff to make us happy.
When my mother passed away, my siblings asked me what I wanted of hers. I said “Nothing. All I need is already in my heart, in my memories”. Although I ended up with a knickknack or two, my memories of her are what live on.
Barbara Swafford has an awesome blog post here: Bloggers Are Going Naked
Hi Barbara – What a great story about the friend! It reminded me of the old joke about the divorcee who dropped 190 lbs – her husband of course.
And you’re so right that the memories live on, too.
What a nice time for you and your daughter. After my mother passed, my sister came to visit me and we went through the family photos my mother had from her mother. We made albums, one for each sibling, and tried to identify who was who and arrange according to which side of the family, etc. Visiting with my uncles and cousins over the past few years has also been good fun, as they’ve recognized people in the photos, but interestingly they don’t want any of them! Hence the discards I just made.
Your comment also made me think about all the scrapbookers out there. I’ve been learning some paper-crafting techniques for card-making, and I am amazed at the volume of scrapbooking. What happens to all the scrapbooks? Does the rest of the family lug them around until Kingdom come? I’ve got the kids’ baby books and first few years scrapbooks as well as some additional memorabilia from their school years, and it seems like a lot. I can’t imagine documenting every minute like some people do. Their life must be like, “Quick, you all! Stay put, I’ve got to scrapbook this now!”
Some older relatives on my mom’s side are super travelers. Their journeys are all in meticulous hardbound scrapbooks, as the wife loves to photograph. Shelves and shelves of these we saw when we visited a few years ago. This makes me grateful for digital imaging.
Dear Betsy,
Yes, wonderful post.
I think of this as I pass peoples’ homes or am in their homes, all the possessions. How they were so yearned after and gained. But perhaps to be taken for granted once attained.
And I who had maybe 50 poetry books in my collection last year I thought — what IF I started giving them away to others, could I survive? And you know what? I have! And my shelves that did do proudly hold the books — they still look just fine. Less cluttered really.
The cabin sounds lovely! As do you and Pete. May you enjoy many happy moments there.
xoxo
Jannie Funster has an awesome blog post here: Great Peeps Recap 5 55 words 55 more words
Hi Jannie – You raise a good point about how possessions can be “yearned after.” And it’s true that there may be only a temporary satisfaction with them once they are attained. Great example of your poetry books, too. It’s interesting that we don’t really wind up missing what we think we might. Thank you.
Betsy,
This is a great post for me as I know I will soon be downsizing and I don’t anticipate this process because I have way too much emotional “stuff.”
I will say that recently I donated my mom’s piano to a school. I have had it for over thirty years, but no one in my family played it. It was more of a picture holder than an instrument. I really struggled to let go of it. It held lots of memories. When I did, however, I was invited to the school and the chorus sang for my boyfriend and me. It was so wonderful to hear the piano being played and watch all those young faces intent upon getting their song just right. I thought that my mom would be very happy with my decision:~)
I’ll be taking your advice and realizing that some things need to find new homes. Thanks for this post:~)
Sara has an awesome blog post here: Story Photo- You Be the Judge
Hi Sara – What a lovely way to commemorate your mother’s treasured piano! I know what you mean about struggling to let go – very similar to the emotions I had with the dining room furniture. I can honestly say now that it’s all gone, I’ve no regrets. It sounds as though you’re pleased with the happy outcome as well. Hopefully, the process will be easier on us both in the future.