An Epiphany while Morphing the Home to House
Clutter wasn’t always trash
After the U Haul trips, there is still so much more to do. Selling a house with its traps of memories and scenes wrapped up in your head fighting to get out tends to cloud one’s judgment and daily responsibilities. On top of that, an ill spouse becomes that sour cherry on top.
Forced Spring Cleaning
I thought I had boxed up most of the old clothes, but I found three behind the King bed. They were thoughtfully well hidden. I haven’t found my gorgeous wedding dress, and when I find it I’ll need a heavy dose of chemical restraints.
As I went through each bin, I found that my garments, like an old friend, said hello to me.
Welcome back Jack!
I pick up a size medium black cashmere sweater; I shake it out from its coffin-like folds, its long sleeves seem to reach out to give me a hug and kick up the faerie dust of my life as it once was. A reminder that I did have a beautiful life. It is just different now.
I was kind of a carefree-ish Mom of two babies, a hubby in tennis shorts. We were social butterflies parading down to the Club, him in tux and bowtie, me in my gorgeous black outfit, the sunset catching the brilliance of my diamond ring. I was fortunate enough not to work at the time and I could keep house, have playdates and be with my boys without time restriction. I continued to nourish their emotional umbilical cords, with my unconditional love at all times.
I was happy and fun-loving.
I did, however, see a glimpse of the Me that I miss.
She was my avatar; a sexy, high heeled, dressed to the nines stay at home vixen.
I wore great evening outfits that matched the time of day within my hourglass figure that kept growing with the babies. Silk, velvet, satin and of course leather. Mostly black.
That glimpse was seen in that bin, the one filled with my formal attire.
I snapped it open, and like a genie in a bottle, its scent enveloped me into ME, the avatar. I was swirling with a past joy as my Chanel perfumed sachets, tucked into my packed clothing erupted, intoxicating me.
I picked up a fur lined collared top that I would wear when it was a dance party. I found my favorite heels. I made sure my shoes were at a good height while being able to dance. I was taught by my Detective dad when shoe shopping, try on a pair and run around the store. Then I’d know I’d be safe if I had to run away. I danced the night away!
I remember my 50th birthday party. I got a tattoo and had caviar and inflatable guitars. The picture below is my son’s eighth birthday party and that’s where I got the idea for my birthday, to eat caviar and rock hard with my bad self.
I wish I had some of that dust as my self image was always poor. But the fairy dust sure did bring back great memories letting me know through its lens I was a fun loving intelligent woman who could read a room in one full sweep while starting a few conversations at the same time at a party, not to mention running down a city block in heels.
Back to Clutter
My clutter, these plastic bins were filled with sensory invitations to recall some of the best times of my life. Yet, what does one do with the memories, as I stare down at a well-worn formal dress, and I feel the velvet coat as I press it against my cheek. I bring them out of the bins like a vampire at dusk. The memories come to life. I hugged the velvet, I put the dress against my body, and I was brought back to a life most would envy..
I realized it wouldn’t be easy to let go. They were too expensive, what if I need them to attend a black tie? (First I would have to lose a decade of weight). What about the memories?
It was time for a Marie Kondo https://konmari.com/ moment. The more I pulled out my garments the sadder I got, due to the crumbling evidence of how the life I knew was spiraling down with each passing party, event and bottle.
My picturesque world had seismic cracks under the foundation of the marriage. Sometimes Love is not enough to ask for change.
It was time to set up the Kondo plan of action for this home that needed to morph. It was time to get rid of the sachets and tuxedos he wore so well. It was time for me to morph.
I honored my beautiful garments, touched them and made my decisions. Yes, I took pictures. I giggled, remembering the friends who were playing air guitar when we ran out of the inflatables, I gazed over pictures of the clubs’ pool parties and swooned over the married men who looked pretty damn good at the time. If I sent the bins away without opening them, where would I be today?
Long lost pictures in my brain with moths having a field day.
Seeing the clothing I saw that I morphed too. Who did I become? Was I asking too much of an alcoholic to stop, for the sake of light and love? Did we stay too long together spiting our time as it passes forever? As the Stoics say, (in my words) you are going to die. Make the best of yourself now, and respect but leave the past as it wastes time, precious time of this moment.
I sorted and made tough decisions but with the reality that a piece of cloth doesn’t hold the memory, your mind does, sharing a life does and pictures sure do help.
Along with some of the formal clothing I donated most of my professional clothes to places that help women and men get back on their feet.
Best of luck to the women who choose my formal garments as they will have a joyful time, sharing a bit of my faerie dust tucked within the seams.
I was so happy to see my bags and bins say goodbye to me. I was welcomed by them and now I am done.
With the past, that is.
