Purging all your belongings in preparation for moving to a RV full-time is so different than previous purging experiences. It very much feels like the last time I will ever do this. I think that's why lately I've thought a lot about all the other times in my life when I've "gone through everything I own" in an attempt to have less stuff. And it's made me look at a few things I still have and ask "why that?"
For me this is a stroll down memory lane. For you, more likely the antidote for insomnia you've been looking for - if you make it to the end.
When I returned home from boarding school, (probably not how you're picturing boarding school), I had my first experience at "purging my stuff". I was in elementary school and living with my mom when I left, and when I returned I was starting high school and moving to the desert to live with my dad.
Dad had a 3-bedroom house so downsizing was not a consideration. My belongings, acquired over 13 years, were transported in a large moving van. Maybe not Mayflower moving van, but definitely not U-Haul trailer. So purging was really more dividing stuff between "keep to wear and use and look at" and "keep in a box because it's mine and I love it". There were several of the latter. Like there-goes-the-third-bedroom several.
Anyway...
Going away to college I purged again. Kept my bedroom for coming home to visit, but Dad put his foot down about the untouched boxes with four years of dust. This time I really had to Get. Rid. Of. Stuff. What an ogre.
At 17 years old I was going through boxes of dolls and tea sets and frilly dresses and pictures of little kids who had been my friends and whose names I no longer remembered. It was delightful! What a wonderful childhood I had, what great feelings all that stuff brought back. I should put these treasures in a museum!
Or give most of it away to the little girls I had been babysitting for the past four years :-).
I pared it down to a handful of boxes which the ogre (the man was a friggin' saint) begrudgingly found room for in his garage. There was no "feeling lighter", but I do remember thinking I had taken a big step to being a grown up. Remember when we couldn't wait to do that? Suckers.
Not everything went to the girls or the garage, or even the trash. Quite a few things went with me to college. As is often the case, my roommates and I moved apartments every year which meant annual purging. As a result I have almost nothing from my college years but photos. However, many of the things I had taken with me from home found their way into new boxes, now stored with my mom (the other saint).
Graduated from college and over the next seven years: new man, new house, new baby, new job, new separation. Every new brought out the old to get rid of for moving to the next one. Mom and Dad both retired and the stored childhood boxes were whittled down to one or two (to show my son, to give to my grandkids, to remember my history). These were stored in my own garage, along with boxes of stuff from my short adulthood.
I moved north and over the next six years: new man, new ranch, new baby, new promotion, new terminal illness, new widowhood. My first experience at purging someone else's stuff. Less delightful. His older kids only wanted a couple items. There was only me to keep his things (to show my sons, to give to my grandkids, to remember his history). I had a ranch. With a barn. With out-buildings. I kept a lot.
12 months later Dad passed. He lived in Quartzsite, AZ. He passed in July. See? - Ogre. I miss him.
An acre of big stuff with a two-story garage (he thought I had issues with boxes??), multiple vehicles, a lifetime of documents, photos, and tools to rival Sears, gave a whole new meaning to purging. Did I mention it was July? In Quartzsite? I learned to go through wooden crates with gloves and a pot holder.
I also learned the value of asking for help. Cousins and friends bought most of the big things and I gave away a lot of sentimental items to those who wanted them. When I sold the property to a family friend I left a lot of stuff. I still had a ranch. I took a lot home. He was my dad, I was his only child, there was only me to keep his things (to show to my sons, to show his grandkids, to remember his history).
A couple years later I left the ranch: new fiance', new suburban home, new hobbies, new job location. One of the draws of this large home was the storage - built-in cupboards, attic in the garage. Although I went through the boxes again, I got rid of very little. Moving from the ranch meant unloading "ranch-type" things, but everything else came along.
A couple more years and I moved south again: same fiance', new house, new friends, new schools. Making that move necessitated the second big purge. I learned I like doing yard sales and I had many. For the first time I assessed the "why" of some of the things I was still hauling around. The antique bedroom set with the dressing table was for my daughter. I had two sons. I was 40 years old. I sold the set. Somewhat painful, but the reason I had kept it didn't exist, so I had to let go. Still, the very, very large moving van was full when it pulled out.
Less than a year and I moved to the desert: newly single, new house, new schools. It was a quick move and by necessity I unloaded a lot of things. And yet when I had a garage built on the property I made sure there was plenty of storage room. The small storage building in the back was completely full.
The oldest graduated from high school and moved to a small apartment in the city. Too small for most of his stuff so it stayed with me (to use later, to show his children, to remember his history).
My job changed and not long after, I moved again: still single, one son, rented house, same boxes. The house was four bedrooms with a three-car garage. Yep, filled it up.
My god parents passed and left everything to me. They lived in the same place for 30 years (fortunately just an hour away) with two huge garages. Her wardrobe would have clothed a small country. They were collectors - one of the garages was wall-to-wall model train set-up including the lighted villages. It took me over a month to get everything out and most of the big things sold - including their modular home. I periodically apologized to my dad, the saint indeed.
That experience changed my relationship with stuff. Going through boxes not opened in over 20 years (dates on newspaper), photo albums of un-identified people and places, years of pay stubs and greeting cards and contracts and receipts and other documents - it was such an eye-opener! Pantry items with expiration dates over five years old. Many things had been their parents' and stored so long they were disintegrating. Clothes and linens were discolored with age. No children, so no grandchildren. Why would anyone keep stuff for so long and never use it?
Aha!
I spent the next three months going through everything I owned, doing a real purge. Every cupboard, every closet, every garage shelf, every box. The hardest part was that I not only had my own things but also stuff from four people who had passed. And two kids. That "responsibility" is a heavy one. There is a legacy in stuff.
I took two weeks vacation when I moved to the new house in Wildomar. When I went back to work everything had a place. Two cars were parked in the garage. There was no separate storage place.
There were still boxes of Christmas decorations. There were boxes with baby blankets and kindergarten drawings and handmade cards. There were boxes of favorite toys and books. There was one box each of "mementos" from those who left. I kept two collections, undecided on whether to sell or not.... Everything else was put to use or displayed.
Geez, this got really long, really fast. I won't blame you if you bail, but it's almost done. Really.
For me this is a stroll down memory lane. For you, more likely the antidote for insomnia you've been looking for - if you make it to the end.
When I returned home from boarding school, (probably not how you're picturing boarding school), I had my first experience at "purging my stuff". I was in elementary school and living with my mom when I left, and when I returned I was starting high school and moving to the desert to live with my dad.
Dad had a 3-bedroom house so downsizing was not a consideration. My belongings, acquired over 13 years, were transported in a large moving van. Maybe not Mayflower moving van, but definitely not U-Haul trailer. So purging was really more dividing stuff between "keep to wear and use and look at" and "keep in a box because it's mine and I love it". There were several of the latter. Like there-goes-the-third-bedroom several.
Anyway...
Going away to college I purged again. Kept my bedroom for coming home to visit, but Dad put his foot down about the untouched boxes with four years of dust. This time I really had to Get. Rid. Of. Stuff. What an ogre.
At 17 years old I was going through boxes of dolls and tea sets and frilly dresses and pictures of little kids who had been my friends and whose names I no longer remembered. It was delightful! What a wonderful childhood I had, what great feelings all that stuff brought back. I should put these treasures in a museum!
Or give most of it away to the little girls I had been babysitting for the past four years :-).
I pared it down to a handful of boxes which the ogre (the man was a friggin' saint) begrudgingly found room for in his garage. There was no "feeling lighter", but I do remember thinking I had taken a big step to being a grown up. Remember when we couldn't wait to do that? Suckers.
Not everything went to the girls or the garage, or even the trash. Quite a few things went with me to college. As is often the case, my roommates and I moved apartments every year which meant annual purging. As a result I have almost nothing from my college years but photos. However, many of the things I had taken with me from home found their way into new boxes, now stored with my mom (the other saint).
Graduated from college and over the next seven years: new man, new house, new baby, new job, new separation. Every new brought out the old to get rid of for moving to the next one. Mom and Dad both retired and the stored childhood boxes were whittled down to one or two (to show my son, to give to my grandkids, to remember my history). These were stored in my own garage, along with boxes of stuff from my short adulthood.
I moved north and over the next six years: new man, new ranch, new baby, new promotion, new terminal illness, new widowhood. My first experience at purging someone else's stuff. Less delightful. His older kids only wanted a couple items. There was only me to keep his things (to show my sons, to give to my grandkids, to remember his history). I had a ranch. With a barn. With out-buildings. I kept a lot.
12 months later Dad passed. He lived in Quartzsite, AZ. He passed in July. See? - Ogre. I miss him.
An acre of big stuff with a two-story garage (he thought I had issues with boxes??), multiple vehicles, a lifetime of documents, photos, and tools to rival Sears, gave a whole new meaning to purging. Did I mention it was July? In Quartzsite? I learned to go through wooden crates with gloves and a pot holder.
I also learned the value of asking for help. Cousins and friends bought most of the big things and I gave away a lot of sentimental items to those who wanted them. When I sold the property to a family friend I left a lot of stuff. I still had a ranch. I took a lot home. He was my dad, I was his only child, there was only me to keep his things (to show to my sons, to show his grandkids, to remember his history).
A couple years later I left the ranch: new fiance', new suburban home, new hobbies, new job location. One of the draws of this large home was the storage - built-in cupboards, attic in the garage. Although I went through the boxes again, I got rid of very little. Moving from the ranch meant unloading "ranch-type" things, but everything else came along.
A couple more years and I moved south again: same fiance', new house, new friends, new schools. Making that move necessitated the second big purge. I learned I like doing yard sales and I had many. For the first time I assessed the "why" of some of the things I was still hauling around. The antique bedroom set with the dressing table was for my daughter. I had two sons. I was 40 years old. I sold the set. Somewhat painful, but the reason I had kept it didn't exist, so I had to let go. Still, the very, very large moving van was full when it pulled out.
Less than a year and I moved to the desert: newly single, new house, new schools. It was a quick move and by necessity I unloaded a lot of things. And yet when I had a garage built on the property I made sure there was plenty of storage room. The small storage building in the back was completely full.
The oldest graduated from high school and moved to a small apartment in the city. Too small for most of his stuff so it stayed with me (to use later, to show his children, to remember his history).
My job changed and not long after, I moved again: still single, one son, rented house, same boxes. The house was four bedrooms with a three-car garage. Yep, filled it up.
My god parents passed and left everything to me. They lived in the same place for 30 years (fortunately just an hour away) with two huge garages. Her wardrobe would have clothed a small country. They were collectors - one of the garages was wall-to-wall model train set-up including the lighted villages. It took me over a month to get everything out and most of the big things sold - including their modular home. I periodically apologized to my dad, the saint indeed.
That experience changed my relationship with stuff. Going through boxes not opened in over 20 years (dates on newspaper), photo albums of un-identified people and places, years of pay stubs and greeting cards and contracts and receipts and other documents - it was such an eye-opener! Pantry items with expiration dates over five years old. Many things had been their parents' and stored so long they were disintegrating. Clothes and linens were discolored with age. No children, so no grandchildren. Why would anyone keep stuff for so long and never use it?
Aha!
I spent the next three months going through everything I owned, doing a real purge. Every cupboard, every closet, every garage shelf, every box. The hardest part was that I not only had my own things but also stuff from four people who had passed. And two kids. That "responsibility" is a heavy one. There is a legacy in stuff.
I took two weeks vacation when I moved to the new house in Wildomar. When I went back to work everything had a place. Two cars were parked in the garage. There was no separate storage place.
There were still boxes of Christmas decorations. There were boxes with baby blankets and kindergarten drawings and handmade cards. There were boxes of favorite toys and books. There was one box each of "mementos" from those who left. I kept two collections, undecided on whether to sell or not.... Everything else was put to use or displayed.
Geez, this got really long, really fast. I won't blame you if you bail, but it's almost done. Really.
When my mom passed away she was living in a small apartment in Tucson. Over the years she had given me most of the things she wanted me to have, and they were already in use in my home. After cleaning out her space, my Subaru was full but there was no trailer towed behind. This new stuff mostly found a place in the house but a box or two was added to the shelf.
Moving in to Bill's house meant sharing space with another adult for the first time in ten years. And he had stuff too! Now he would tell you that I started getting rid of his stuff immediately. This is of course an exaggeration. Perhaps in the process of blending our things there wasn't room for it all and the items that fit the "best" just happened to be mine. It wasn't planned that way....... And I wasn't even there when he had the big yard sale followed by the filling of the large dumpster! Just saying.
We bought the house we're in now (told you it was almost done), and I got rid of the Wildomar house. Big yard sale, opening the house to friends to take what they wanted, two loads in the pick-up. Done. Two households combined into one. Car parked in the garage one week after moving in.
We have an attic and large closets and a good size 2-car garage with lots of shelves and cupboards. There are still boxes. There are still furniture and books and wonderful things used and displayed. It is not a large house but it holds a lot. And it's definitely bigger than an RV.
So after all those moves, all the memories I made, all the memories my children made, all the memories I was given to hold on to, all the history I felt responsible for keeping for others - and all the subsequent sorting and reducing and purging - what's left? And why is that stuff still with me?
Two reasons I think. One is: for my sons, for my grandchildren, for history.
Admittedly my sons have enjoyed their own strolls down memory lane when boxes have been opened over the years. They haven't wanted to take them, but their enjoyment was worth having kept them, and I don't regret it. I don't have grandchildren yet. My sons are adults now and it is up to them to decide if they want to keep anything for themselves and their children. It took a while, but I'm good with that part now. For history?
That ties to the second reason: that 17-year-old still lives inside me.
No longer dolls and such, but certain items still evoke that delight of decades ago. What a wonderful life I've lived, what great feelings that stuff brings back!
We bought the house we're in now (told you it was almost done), and I got rid of the Wildomar house. Big yard sale, opening the house to friends to take what they wanted, two loads in the pick-up. Done. Two households combined into one. Car parked in the garage one week after moving in.
We have an attic and large closets and a good size 2-car garage with lots of shelves and cupboards. There are still boxes. There are still furniture and books and wonderful things used and displayed. It is not a large house but it holds a lot. And it's definitely bigger than an RV.
So after all those moves, all the memories I made, all the memories my children made, all the memories I was given to hold on to, all the history I felt responsible for keeping for others - and all the subsequent sorting and reducing and purging - what's left? And why is that stuff still with me?
Two reasons I think. One is: for my sons, for my grandchildren, for history.
Admittedly my sons have enjoyed their own strolls down memory lane when boxes have been opened over the years. They haven't wanted to take them, but their enjoyment was worth having kept them, and I don't regret it. I don't have grandchildren yet. My sons are adults now and it is up to them to decide if they want to keep anything for themselves and their children. It took a while, but I'm good with that part now. For history?
That ties to the second reason: that 17-year-old still lives inside me.
No longer dolls and such, but certain items still evoke that delight of decades ago. What a wonderful life I've lived, what great feelings that stuff brings back!
 |
| Kindergarten Masterpiece |
One thing is from as far back as my own kindergarten. (How did it not break through all the moves?)
 |
| Delightful memories |
Some things came from my parents and my kids over the years. Others are very recent that Bill gave me.
 |
| Worn by me, then Brian, then Jeff.....sweet |
The stuff I've kept is of very little financial value. That hasn't even been a factor in keeping them (well maybe the kids' trading cards and the native american jewelry).
Instead, THAT stuff is memories and feelings and legacy.
I'm not taking it with me. I may keep a few things. I will photograph all of it and safely store those photos.
And I'll re-read this very long post that has somehow spun itself into a kind of purging of it's own. I enjoy sharing it with you. But this one's for me.
Oh the purging of things! I always hated opening those boxes because I knew I would be sitting in memory lane for hours. Moving into an RV (especially if you are not keeping a house) is the Biggest one of all! Wishing you the least painful transition as possible!
ReplyDeleteMaura
Thanks Maura! It will be very interesting to see what makes the "final cut"!
DeletePurging took so much time because I had to look at everything again. It is wonderful to have all that behind us. We only have five large plastic tube of memories stored at our daughter's. Good Luck:)
ReplyDeleteI think I'd be good with that amount after the final round - could probably find a friend's closet to hide it in :-).
DeleteThis was actually a great read Jodee. You have had some full life and I'm not surprised that you have a lot of memories tied up in it. I think the idea of a small storage facility beats having regrets down the road when you have to come off the road that you didn't keep what you really love.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you enjoyed it - it really took on a life of its own! I agree I would likely regret not keeping some of the most special pieces - at least small ones I could put on my table at the rest home :-))))))
DeleteYou just have to get used to purging. We purged into a storage shed. Then, we purged into a smaller one. Then, we purge every year from our motorhome to the cabin. Now it's time to purge the cabin. Will it ever stop? I doubt it.
ReplyDeleteAfter all that I sure hope I'm used to it :-)))) but I figure that even when I think it's the last time, it won't. I think you're right about it never stopping. Even when space doesn't change, our interests do.
DeleteI love reading your blog. I am going to suggest that after you move into your RV that you get it weighed. LOL I am serious. We belongs to Escapees and we recently had our weighed at an event. They weigh each axle to make sure you are not overweight in any area. You could be overweight on one side which is dangerous. We were not overweight, but only had about 300 pounds to spare on the back end, so we will not be adding anything there. Our rule is supposed to be if you bring something in, you have to take something out. Anyway, after you get weighed, you might need to purge again. LOL
ReplyDeleteGood thing to remember Patty! Maybe I'll use weight as a tie-breaker when I get down to the last of it :-).
DeleteIt is a difficult process to be sure. I like the way your thought process has evolved over the years. I think you've found the best way for you to deal with it though and you'll be able to make peace with it in the end! This was a great read!
ReplyDeleteThanks Lisa! I think the reward at the end will be worth whatever last minute struggles I have to face :-).
DeleteYour blog is almost as long as my Two Year Anniversary blog! But I identify with you. Even after you move into your home on wheels, I predict that you will have a few more purges. I have had two big ones from the M.H. It is a life process, I think. At least it is for me.
ReplyDeleteRight?! I'll have to call this my 50 year purging anniversary blog!
DeleteOh My! seeing that broken Kittie gave me flash backs to my dog 'Max,' a 14 year old lab that was coming to the end of his life. I layed down next to him, told him I loved him and asked him not to make me have to put him to sleep! He died the next day, and looked just like he was asleep...peaceful! I thanked him for taking the decision from me! Sometimes life makes decisions for us!
ReplyDeleteMaura
It is a lovely gift to be spared the decision while at the same time having it confirmed that the time has come. I too had a Max (160# German Shepherd also 14) - always hard to say goodbye to those sweet fur babies :-(.
DeleteWe'll have a heck of a time when we're ready for this step. Our daughter left home 6 years ago, moved from California to Maryland and could only take what fit in her car. Our son left home almost 5 years ago. The Air Force moved his furniture, but we still have a lot of his things. We own a business with plenty of storage above the office and it's full of stuff. We've been in the same house for 24 years and our attic is full of stuff. Plus, Ron is a handy guy with plenty of tools to show for it. WOW!!
ReplyDeleteWow indeed! Not sure I'd know where to begin - but begin you will have to do eventually :-(. Sounds like you may be good candidate for an estate sales company!
DeleteI can sooooo relate. I had every piece of paper my three kids ever scribbled on and macaroni artwork out the wazoo. And all my high school and college term papers. The list goes on. And for the same reasons as you. I was shaking my head at the stuff we had, but each move, when I would open a box and come across these things, they seemed important. Now they don't. We sent enough to Texas and will probably still be shaking our heads when we open those boxes in a few years. Still, right now, they seem important. Great blog, Jodee.
ReplyDeleteThanks Linda! Can you believe all that paper???? I'm thinking the kids will have so much less :-)
Delete