Letting Go


As I’m sitting on my floor I pause for a moment and take a deep inhale.

I’ve been holding my breath again.

While my Depression and Anxiety have lessened a tremendous amount, I still deal with some of the lingering effects from years of dealing with this mix.

I take a long inhale and sigh it out.

When I bring awareness to the tension in my breath I can feel the reigns of this ‘thing’ loosen its hold on my chest.

My eyes start scanning the room. There is SO much STUFF.

Why is it here? How did I end up with all of it?

Let me give myself some credit here: During my first move the year I DID donate several bags of clothes. When I moved in to this current house it really did seem like I had less than I began with. Well. . . fast forward to four months nesting time and It feels like dejavu.

There are five bags of items on my right.

I’ll take pictures and create a ‘for sale’ post tomorrow. 

It’s been at least three weeks now and there isn’t a single post to be seen. This is where the real struggle begins:

To simply give away my things is bringing up a lot for me. You see, the past four years I got really good at figuring out what it is I don’t want. If it made me miserable or I was working somewhere below my true potential I handed in my two weeks notice. Unfortunately, many of the things that I didn’t want were fast cash and because I was good with people I was able to make a lot of it.

Now? Not so much. I wouldn’t have thought I’d be getting ready to make a second move four months after the first (and potentially a third two months following). I got complacent and put all my eggs in one basket which, as you may have guessed, left me in a position where I’m counting every penny between paychecks.

This transition shifted my vision and to put it simply:

I got my mind on my Money and my Money on my mind. 

How’s that working out you ask? Well, let’s just say some days I find myself going with the flow and on others I’m hanging on for dear life. In both cases, money always seems to be at the center of it.

Instead of seeing the items themselves I’ve begun to see their monetery value. When I picture myself handing over the bags of stuff I’m overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. It’s almost as if by holding on to everything I didn’t have to acknowledge the truth:

I wasted money on material items I don’t even wear because I wanted to fit the image of what I felt society wanted me to be.  

Maybe that’s what I needed- to face this truth and declare it.

I look to my right at the bags of clothes.


I look to my left at the bar bending under the weight of all the clothes hanging form it.


All these extra items serving me no purpose. By holding on I’m not re-gaining the money I lost. Trying to sell it all is just me trying to cling to what is already lost. Moving foward I know better. I’ll do better.

It’s time I release to hold this stuff has over me.

It’s time for me to breathe.


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