Getting rid of STUFF

How does one accumulate so much STUFF?  I feel like I am constantly purging things from the house. It feels great but I still look around and see STUFF! I need simplicity, I need it bad. I try so hard and it always feels just out of my grasp.

For our family there are a few factors as to how we accumulated so much stuff. When my dad passed away about five years ago, I ended up with half of the furniture and "stuff" from his house, plus my own stuff! I have gotten rid of things here and there but held on to many things out of sentimental attachment. Letting go in that sense is definitely a process which takes time. The memories will not die, bottom line. 

Now let's throw in that we, together, have five children, and all of their STUFF. As I downsize their stuff, people give them more STUFF. I have tried many ways of organizing their stuff with beautifully thought out procedures on how to keep it that way.  It turns out that the kids are not as enthusiastic about procedure as I am, none of them, ages 3-12.  Party poopers!  

Having a two story house makes it just a tad more irritating trying to keep things where they belong. The kids being stuff downstairs that should stay upstairs, and things get lost upstairs that should be downstairs. After having hip surgery, there are only so many times I can go up and down those stairs in a day without wanting to hurt someone, and then have an adult beverage. 

I am an organizer. I feel good when things are organized. I get happy just looking at organization. I have trouble relaxing if the view around me is unorganized. So bigger measures need to be taken to really simplify. It's no where near something you would see on Hoarders, it's just too much for me. I feel smothered and weighed down, plus it's important to me to instill in my kids that less is more, because it really is.

It's been baby steps leading up to bigger steps. Months back I got rid of most things that usually sat on the kitchen counter tops, they are gone or put away somewhere. Major difference in how I feel about my kitchen! A good friend, Missy, had talked about how cleansing it felt to get rid of something you are attached to. To just do it! I did that in my kitchen and it was liberating. Thanks Missy! On to the rest of the house!

Our huge pieces of furniture are for sale. There is only one cube of toys and a castle allowed downstairs for play. Other than that, play in your room! 

We are still in the middle of it, but it already feels freeing. I will not miss all the STUFF crowding my thoughts and mood. I will no longer have to spend so much time trying to organize STUFF. There are 7 people who have stuff in our house, it's hard enough to handle the laundry, so I say, kiss it STUFF! 

My cheesy piece on RAIN

"Some people feel the rain.  Others just get wet." - Bob Marley

I didn't always feel the rain like I do now.  When I was a kid I really didn't care for it.  It made me feel cold.  As a teenager it messed up my carefully and purposely sculpted bangs and ruined my mascara.  Rain was a pain in my ass.  I knew there was something special about it and I loved the smell that it pulled form the earth, but I was too busy wanting to be warm and cute to figure it out.

When I was in my early twenties I lived at home with my dad and I was a smoker.  My feelings about the rain started to change as I did.  I used to love sitting in the gazebo that housed the hot tub in the back yard and enjoy a cigarette in the rain.  Fat raindrops would come falling through the open sky light into the hot tub as my exhaled smoke made its way out.  The sound on the roof was reassuring.  The wood structure  was moist and smelled comforting.  I sat on the wooden bar stool at the built in counter while small drops snuck in through the cracks onto my hand. It was peaceful.  Just me, my thoughts, and my cigarette.

There is a day from my later twenties that I purposely burned into my memory.  What seemed like an uneventful day, had become a fond memory due to the soothing touch of the rain.  It was my first apartment with just myself and my little boy, not even two years old.  It was a Monday and I had the day off of work.  The complex was quiet. My little boy was napping.  I had the back door open so that I could hear and smell the rain.  I walked back and forth to the laundry room that was just outside my back patio.  I remember how content I felt, folding laundry, looking at my sleeping child, listening to music as my apartment filled with the smell of rain.  I told myself I would remember that feeling, the smell, and the sound, so I could return to it whenever I wanted.  It was the perfect rainy day with no where to be.  I wasn't cold, in fact, I felt like the rain had captured me, warming my heart.  I could tell that my relationship with the rain had changed. 

When my boy woke, I took him to the back door and told him to take a big breath, to smell the rain.  "Doesn't that smell great?" I asked him.  He seemed as delighted as I to be sharing this little treasure.  To this day, almost nine years later, he yanks the back door open to get a good whiff of the rain.

Later that year I took a road trip to Oregon with my son and my cousin.  It was then that I truly bonded with the rain.  It rained pretty much everyday.  I noticed things.  I noticed that I didn't think to cover my head when getting out of the car.  I walked down the street, I walked on the beach, in the rain, but I didn't get wet, I just felt the rain.  It wasn't a pain in my ass anymore.  It was cleansing, it was a gift.  It was fresh and it made me feel alive. 

Last year  my oldest son and I made one of our most cherished memories together with the rain.  It was pouring outside.  We put on big jackets and leashed the dog.  We ran.  We took our dog and we ran together for almost a mile without stopping in the pouring rain.  It stung a little as it smacked or faces.  It was cold but our insides were warm from running.  We laughed and we shouted out into the rain.  It was so fun and so exhilarating that we could hardly contain ourselves.  What a rush!  Our dog seemed equally as excited.  Neither of us really wanted it to end.  We went home in soaked clothing and took hot showers (including doggy) and recapped how much fun we just had.

The rain had become so special to me that I jumped at any chance to share it with my children.  The last good rain we had, we sat on the front porch and drank hot chocolate together.  We watched how everything was the same but looked so different.  The wet road looked unfamiliar and far away.  The rain was loud but soothing.  Watching their faces light up as if they were watching magic was a sweet treat. 

I love how the rain makes everything more vibrant.  Grass looks greener, flowers look brighter, even the dirt appears to look more rich.  The rain reminds me of calm. It reminds me of love and comfort.  It always feels necessary and meaningful. It feels cleansing and pure.  Have you ever noticed how the rain makes anything more passionate?  Kissing, singing, running, dancing, a walk.  The rain is passionate on its own, bringing passion to everything under its umbrella.

Photo of painting - St. Giles in the Rain.