I’ve been going through closets and boxes and throwing out stuff in anticipation of our move out west.
I am so excited!! Mountains!! Wide open spaces!! Billions of stars visible at night!! (I can only see one from our downtown Chicago high-rise.) Peace and quiet!! Sunny over 300 days a year!!! No more snow!! Close to Sedona and other areas loaded with positive energy and healers galore!!! No more sirens night and day (we’re one block from a big hospital). No more construction noise. (They built five high-rise buildings around ours in the last six years.) No more crazy traffic!! And all this at half the rent we’re paying now!!
I read a decluttering article where the author said, “If you aren’t sure you want to keep something, bring it up to your heart and ask, ‘Does this bring me joy? If not, toss.’”
I think that’s a good rule of thumb, but I am keeping some things that don’t necessarily bring me joy, but are important or dear to me for other reasons.
For example, I found some cartoons I drew in the 90’s and I love them because they remind me of how far I’ve come and that’s such a good feeling.
At that time, I was working sixty-hour weeks in a high-pressure, deadline-driven job. I’d look so forward to the weekends. I always had the feeling that if I could just get enough quality sleep and relaxation, I’d feel better again. But I never did. I usually felt either numb or in despair. It was an empty, sad, isolated life without meaningful relationships or any sense of wellbeing.
For a couple years, I did enjoy synthetic well-being with narcotics, but then my tolerance became too great and no amount of drugs made any difference. I just took them so I wouldn’t get sick.
Getting off them was the beginning of healing, but it sure wasn’t a smooth, easy road.
About four years into my sobriety, I had a nervous breakdown. I wrote about it in my short-read Startle: A True Story of PTSD and the Paranormal. One reason I fell apart was because my PTSD meds stopped working and I couldn’t sleep much anymore. I shudder to remember what I went through. But the good news is, not only did I get through it, but that’s when Jack came into my life. Hooray!!
When I got off the PTSD meds three and a half years ago, all the physical pain I knew in my twenties came back.
But now, thank God, all that’s gone, too.
When I look at this picture below, I think, Poor Miss Bunny. She had such a sad life and didn’t know why or have a clue as to how to fix it. So much more pain was on the way. If I could go back through time, I’d give her a big hug and tell her someday, she’ll understand exactly what happened to her when she was little and why she became the bunny she did.
And then I’d tell her if she only holds on, one day, when she least expects it, she’ll find love and eventually move far, far away to a beautiful land with mountains and horses and billions of stars in the sky each night.