Are You a Mental Hoarder?

English: Photo of the living room of a compuls...
English: Photo of the living room of a compulsive hoarder (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I saw a promo picture for of those hoarding shows the other day. It showed a woman surrounded by an impossible pile of stuff, trying to look strong, yet you could see the struggle on her face. I did not watch the show, but I gather that she acquired and held onto these items out of fear, that she sees the piles of clothes of objects as some sort of talisman against the evils and discomforts of the world. This may have worked for awhile, but eventually, as the stuff accumulated, so did its power. It now has her trapped, stuck, buried under the weight of that which she refused to let go of.

We see these shows or read these stories and wonder how they let it get so bad. Don’t they realize that the accumulations are smothering them? Don’t they know that many of those items are worthless? Don’t they see the freedom that comes from release. No, they don’t. They are wrapped in a security blanket of stuff that tightens around them like a serpent whispering platitudes into fearful ears.

We see these shows or read these stories and proudly declare that it could never happen to us. We would recognize that slippery slope and halt the accumulation before it grew to epic proportions. What we often fail to realize, however, is that we are guilty of the same behavior within our minds. You may not be surrounded by the tangibles of your past, but can you say the same for your thoughts? Do you let old hurts and pains clutter your mind? Are you buried under the weight of days gone by? Do you hold on to these memories and thinking patterns because you are afraid to let them go?

If you realize that outdated thoughts are cluttering your mind, read my post on Taking Out the Mental Trash to learn how you can begin to release the unneeded clutter so that you can breathe again without the weight of the past holding you down.

Dangerous Cargo

A Surprising Change in Airport Security Policy
A Surprising Change in Airport Security Policy (Photo credit: Milo Winningham)

 

 

 

From the book, Lessons From the End of a Marriage:

 

Summer 2010

A year passed. Anniversaries knocked against my still-fragile mind like branches against an unsheltered window in a storm. Three hundred and sixty-six days after I lost my husband, I again stood in front of the security line at Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson airport. One year ago, I stood ensconced in my husband’s arms for the last time before I left to reconnect with my father. One year hence, I stood with my new boyfriend, trying not to crumple under the memories as he embraced me before sending me on my way to see my mother’s side of the family. My past, present, and future all collided in front of the TSA poster that advised travelers about carry-on restrictions. I wasn’t worried about the contents of my bag; I was still carrying dangerous cargo in my heart.

 

Tuesday was a huge victory for me. It was the first day since July of 2009 that I passed by the location where I last saw my husband where I not only didn’t relive the scene, but I didn’t even recall it until much later.

 

There is a balance between exposure and avoidance that allows trigger places like this to lose their power in time. It’s not easy – it takes the patience to wait and the strength to face your tormentor. Don’t rush it but also know that it can happen for you as well. The effort and waiting is so worth it because it is such an amazing feeling when you realize that those places cannot hurt you anymore. On Tuesday, I wasn’t worried about passing through security; I had already released the dangerous cargo.

The trip relates to some exciting news about this blog. More information to come soon! 🙂

Drive

Holding On and Letting Go

Time Travel

I went to a friend and former coworker’s retirement celebration today (the event that I gave up the mysterious Heart Beans for). It was a beautiful medley of teachers I have worked with over the last ten years. My retiring friend looked radiant, her face creaseless and worry-free and her body relaxed. It was wonderful to be able to share in recognizing this exciting transition with her.

みちゆき — time travel
みちゆき — time travel (Photo credit: nodoca)

It was interesting for me in other ways as well. Some of the teachers that were present keep up with me via Facebook or my blog (hi, guys!) even though we see each other infrequently due to the distance and Atlanta traffic. Others were part of my support system when my tsunami divorce hit three years ago, right before my last year at that school but we have not really kept in touch. Others still have been out of my life since before the disasster and had no idea of the events of the past few years.

It reminded me of the children in my life that I see periodically. Their parents hardly notice the changes over the months or years but to me, the changes are shocking. My mind attempts to connect the 6 month old with the taking toddler or the 6’1″ pseudo-man with the 4’8″ prepubescent 8th grader I taught.

I imagine it felt like that to some of the teachers I saw tonight. Several of them, upon hearing the news of my divorce, told me about times they witnessed my husband and I together. How good we looked as a couple. How in love we appeared to be. How much it seemed like he adored me. I never know how to respond to this. It is a lifetime ago to me. I know, yet I don’t really remember.

The ones who were my support group were thrilled to see me happy and moving on. They couldn’t get over the change in my body language and the lack of stress on my face as they grew accustomed to the Lisa who was facing the end of a life and was not sure how she was going to create another. They were also trying to connect the old Lisa with the new. Unlike them, I have lived every day, faced every step forward as well those going backward. Even then, I sometimes have trouble connecting the dots from 2009 until today.

As for those I stay in touch with, it was wonderful to exchange hugs with those I largely “see” through Facebook.  I felt immediately at home again.

The teachers at that school are truly a family. And, like a family, we always look out for each other even when we only get glimpses through the years.