I was cleaning and getting rid of some things in preparation for a transition. In the process, I was carefully going through my things, trying to figure out what to toss. There were clothes, bags, jewelry, shoes, photos, books and much, much more. Everything you can imagine was somewhere tucked away in my chest of treasures. Well, buried away in my dresser drawers, my closets, my storage space and under my bed. I practically had things hiding everywhere. The goal was to get rid of old stuff while only keeping a few goodies that were very special. This was nearly impossible because every single thing I picked up meant more to me than the last. Half-way through the process I became drained. Everything meant so much to me. Everything was something I would need one day. Besides a few bags of clothes I finally accepted would never, ever be worn again, everything was necessary. Everything could be used for something special in the future. Every item brought with it a memory of something, some place or someone at some time in my life. How could I ever part with any of it? Giving up my things would be giving up my past and essentially, giving up me. In my mind, I would be giving up on or erasing my past. Why do we find such difficulty in parting with places and things? Why is it sometimes so much more difficult to part with things than with people? 

In the middle of my purge, my daughter came over to help and pack up some of her things. I was excited for her to take her childhood valuables to her home for safekeeping. She happily packed a box of high school memories. After getting the things she wanted, she said to me that it was time to let go as she trashed a lamp that had sat on her night stand when she was just a toddler. I was crushed. It was in that moment I realized that I cared more about her childhood things than she. She had decided that it was time to part with things I treasured. I felt broken. Why didn’t she care about those “things” as much as I did? Why didn’t they mean to her what they’d meant to me? Why didn’t she know and understand that these things would be needed someday, in some way? Why didn’t she understand the value, the importance of these THINGS?

Pause. Check Yourself, Girl! We all have the right to decide what is important, special or meaningful to us. No one can dictate this for us, and we cannot decide this for anyone else.  Everyone has to make their own memories, build and save their own treasure box. My treasures weren’t the responsibility of my daughter. My valuables were not hers. And certainly, my special memories were not hers to keep. My things were just that. Mine. 

 As I sat there, going through my things that meant so much to me, I thought back to being insensitive with and to others and their things. I had dismissed the treasures of others. I had dismissed their value, their meaning, their impact on the lives of the holders. I had dismissed the highs and the lows, the wins and the losses, the hellos and the goodbyes, the births and the deaths. I had dismissed entire lives by asking someone to throw away their things – THEIR STUFF! I had asked them to throw away pieces of them that neither I nor anyone else could ever replace. 

 When people ask you to give up your things, it’s like they are asking you to give up or get rid of a part of you. Things are not just things. Things don’t just tell stories. They are stories. Things don’t just show love. They are love. Things don’t just bring joy. They are joy. Things don’t just give life. Things are life. You simply can’t determine what a “thing” means to someone else. You simply don’t get to decide which things make lasting memories for someone else. Only the holders and the cherishers of these things can decide when it is time to let go.