My relationship with stuff
When meeting a client for the first time, I usually hear a comment like “your house must be so tidy” and I usually reply with, "I'm not a fan a lot of stuff in my house but I get why it’s so hard to get rid of it.” As we start working together, I try to understand my client’s relationship with stuff and for many, they actually dislike it as much as I do. But they can’t bring themselves to get rid of stuff because they either don’t like being wasteful or because they have sentimental ties. And once feelings are involved, it is hard to convince someone to simply discard items.
The thing is, I get it. I really do. My dad had a lot of stuff that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid. He couldn’t despite having to cart his stuff from house to house every year or so. I can’t recall a single time when we purged items before packing up the UHAUL yet again. No matter where we were living, we were sure to be living amongst piles of books, old newspapers, broken furniture, clothes that didn’t fit, and far too many kitchen gadgets for a single man who couldn’t cook. I would never suggest he had a hoarding problem because I’m not a therapist, but I do know he had a difficult relationship with stuff for whatever reason. I have tremendous empathy for those facing a similar challenge.
When my dad was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 58, I didn’t spend much time thinking about what we’d do with all of his stuff should something happen to him. In hindsight, I wish we thought about it more because what was almost as painful as losing him 5 years later was the burden of going through his belongings days after he died because his landlord wanted it out immediately. I knew that every newspaper clipping, mug, necktie, what have you, meant something to my dad even if I couldn’t understand it. I felt heartless having to donate or throw most of his stuff away because I didn’t have the space for it and, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want it. It felt like keeping old wounds or something. When the day was over, I maybe took 10 things including a Shel Silverstein book, a wok (since I was a single person who also couldn’t cook), his backpack filled with barely used moleskins, and his eyeglasses. The rest was just - gone.
It has been over 10 years since he died and I’ve had a lot of time to think about that experience. Honestly, I don’t look back and wish I could’ve taken more of his crap with me. I don’t feel any sadness about losing his stuff - just relief. I miss him every single day but I don’t think that’d change if I kept his collection of Pez dispensers to remind me of him. I’m glad I kept his eyeglasses because of all of the things in the world, those feel like a little piece of my dad is with me. But more importantly, I feel like he’s still very present whenever I tell stories about him and show my kids pictures. Though they never met him, I know they love him, too.
For all of the headache “stuff” gives you, give yourself a little bit of grace but start to change your habits. Even a tiny step can help. It doesn’t feel great for your loved ones to live amongst your literal baggage. Get rid of the old furniture your Grandma gave you or whatever it is that’s holding you back. Your loved ones want you to enjoy the things they gave you (or left you with) but I think it’d crush them to know it actually makes you very unhappy. It’s just stuff. It doesn’t erase the love you have for the person and at the end of the day, the focus should be on enjoying the time we have with each other. I can tell you this much: my dad’s junk is long gone, but I still have him with me every day.
