Memory Overload

Every weekend for about month, I’ve been going through all those boxes in the basement that I have moved from place to place for years. I keep moving them, half because I didn’t make the time to go through them — and half because I assumed that I had them all for a reason and that I’d need all that stuff. Someday.

But this year, we made a decision to move from a 3 bedroom house (with a basement and a garage) to a 2 bedroom apartment — and the purge began. We began in earnest to go through every single box in that horrible, stressful basement. I knew there would be memories that needed to be preserved, but I was determined to be ruthless in my pursuit of minimalism. I have now spent hours — and days — going through those things, and I’ve learned something unexpected.

It’s that each individual memory isn’t important, and that while I’d like to hold onto a few tokens or things from my family, mostly the memories in my head are enough.

Just one example, I found two boxes of journals. Many of them I skimmed through, and some I just chucked without looking. I had always assumed that someday I would go back and read through them, or that my kids would read through them, and it would explain who I am and how I got to be . . . myself. But each hour, and each day, I became more overwhelmed by the memories. I had assumed that I would go soft, or become less ruthless as I got farther along in the purge, but the opposite has been true. I don’t care anymore — it’s all too much. I don’t need all this crap to maintain precise documentation of who I’ve been on my journey — what matters more is who I’ve become.

When I started the purge, my objective was to lighten the tangible burden that I’ve been carrying around with me for years. No small part of it was also to just have things tidier, cleaner, more organized. I didn’t realize how much emotional weight would be lifted in the process. As I get closer to my goal, I want more and more to live in a home that looks more like a hotel. I want every room to make me feel calm because it is clean and tranquil — a blank slate for new adventures. Room to evolve.

I am the sum of my memories and the experiences I’ve gained — I am the catalog. I don’t need all these trinkets that I’ve collected along the way. And it feels amazing to let it go.