Above Photo: My Temporary Refuge At The Neighbor’s
“There’s nothing left for me
of days that used to be.
I live in memory
among my souvenirs.”
— Lawrence Wright & Edgar Leslie (Made popular by Connie Francis, Marty Robbins, and Frank Sinatra)
Today has been a very difficult day. I daresay it has been the most difficult day since hatching this hairbrained scheme. I am now officially unemployed and homeless. Oh, and let’s not forget disabled because of Crohn’s Disease.
In a sort of Dickensian irony, for the last seven days I have been living between and among and atop my personal possessions. The ghosts of vacations past, cocktails present, and handbags future have all come home to roost. This is the stuff that weighed me down and kept me stagnant; I already resented it, but to have it excavated from cupboards and cabinets and boxes and nooks and crannies, placed in full view on no less than 25 folding tables – it was excruciating, and also a bit embarrassing. I stepped over and pushed aside and sidled sideways like a hoarder boring a pathway through mounds of (doesn’t) matter.
The new homeowners dropped by on Saturday for a little pre-estate sale shopping. The look on the husband’s face as he took it all in required no words. I queried, “Do you see now why this had to happen?” He nodded mutely. Meanwhile, his wife shopped happily, much to his growing dismay.
Today, the estate sale personnel priced in earnest. I walked through at the end of their workday, a tad disgusted that every treasure, every memory, every moment now bears a monetary value. It feels so crass and cold. I remind myself that every dollar is diesel fuel, but it doesn’t make it much easier to bear.
Also today, I moved into my temporary quarters at my neighbor Barbara’s home. She and her mother Rosemary are so kind to give me respite during this temporary period of homelessness. I am very lucky to have them in my life.
As I sorted and organized a now much smaller set of personal belongings at my temporary shelter, I realized I still have too much shite! I have purged at least three times already, and there is still much more to go.
I am currently reading “the life-changing magic of tidying up – the Japanese art of decluttering and organizing” by Marie Kondo. She recommends that you hold each and every item of possession in your hands and ask yourself if it brings you joy. The question is not whether it is still useful, or if might be useful five years in the future, or if it was a gift and you feel obliged to keep it. The only question is – does it make you happy?
This passage in her book really spoke to me: “The process of facing and selecting our possessions can be quite painful. It forces us to confront our imperfections and inadequacies and the foolish choices we made in the past. … The things we own are real. They exist here and now as a result of choices made in the past by no one other than ourselves. It is dangerous to ignore them or to discard them indiscriminately as if denying the choices we made. … It is only when we face the things we own one by one and experience the emotions they invoke that we can truly appreciate our relationship with them. … If we acknowledge our attachment to the past and our fears for the future by honestly looking at our possessions, we will be able to see what is really important to us. This process in turn helps us identify our values and reduces doubt and confusion in making life decisions. … In other words, the sooner we confront our possessions the better. ” (pp. 183-184).
“A few more tokens rest
within my treasure chest
and though they do their best to give me consolation
I count them all apart
and as the teardrops start
I find a broken heart
among my souvenirs.”
This Post Has 10 Comments
“mounds of (doesn’t) matter” — what an inspired turn of phrase! Once you gird yourself to let go of shite you really no longer want (even though you may admire it), the feeling is so light and right.
Be sure to get lots of practice walking Mr Tweed on a harness, so he becomes comfortable with it, which equals safe.
Loving the peek at your burgeoning new/folding-in old life, Tammy. You’re blazing a trail not only for yourself, y’know.
I am so ready to be light and right! I am shamelessly stealing that phrase. Thanks for reading!
I stumbled across your blog a while ago (I think some full-time RV-er linked to you on Pinterest) and am so glad I found you in the very early stages of this epic journey. I love the window into the “behind the scenes” realities of making the dream happen. I thoroughly enjoy each post, and really appreciate your honesty and openness, especially when it comes to the harder things, like dealing with the logistics of a chronic health issue or letting go of the souvenirs from a lifetime. This post was heart-wrenching. Your home is absolutely fabulous and despite the romance of the open road, facing the reality of no longer having a stationary home base would certainly be unsettling. All the best as you continue to move forward! I will be hanging on every word. 🙂
Tammi, I woke up to your comment on my blog this morning, and it made me teary. Not only because this is an especially trying time, but because a complete stranger reached out to connect and offer solace. It means a lot to me that you are reading.
Tammy, this process of, shall we say, radical decluttering, is indeed excruciating. I went through it a couple of years ago, and with some haste, downsizing by about two-thirds. The process was full of booby traps–like unearthing a stack of my great aunt’s diaries, casually opening one, and randomly landing on her account of the day a very difficult chapter in my family’s history began, when I was about 8. What are the chances? I just had to stop and rest for awhile. Which I hope you’re doing too, regularly, and as needed.
I haven’t read The Kondo Vision of Order book yet, but from what I’ve read about it, I think she’s onto something essential–our things carry our lives, our memories, our desires and our regrets, and that’s nothing to take lightly. I possess, therefore I remember. How could winnowing not be hard? On top of being plain hard work.
Which isn’t to say that some of your things wouldn’t bring me some serious joy, but since I’m too many states away to elbow my way to the front of the line, I’ll just send up a few thoughts and prayers as the sale approaches. And this fall, we can compare notes or just forget it all and laugh. Maybe both. Till then, oh, hell, I have no wise admonitions for you. But I’m pretty sure you don’t need them anyway.
Hi Tammy,
I am a new neighbor who was at your estate sale and that is where I discovered your blog, which I find fascinating. I just tried to send you a private message and it would not go through. Please give me a call when you have a moment.
Michelle
Tammy!
Oh, what a beautiful house! And, oh, what gorgeous treasures! I just HAPPENED to stumble upon your estate sale while out on walk with my kiddo last week. (I also relieved you of a bottle of chocolate vodka and some rose water, so happy diesel-buying!) Honestly, though. I felt like I’d walked into my dream home, furnishings and all. I kept wondering to myself, “WHO lived here? Where are they now?”. I found your flyer on the way out and here we are. I just wanted to say how amazing and brave you are to let go of so much awesome. And how obvious it is that you poured so much love and spirit into your home. I can only imagine the entertaining you used to do. The good vibes were literally emanating from the walls. 🙂
I have no doubt the inside of your RV looks as fabu as the inside of your house, so you’ll still have the comfort of your style wherever you go. As for the letting go of things… sigh. I feel your pain. I keep hearing about this book you’ve read (and have been through several {dozen} rounds of clearing out stuff myself) and I know the uphill battle of letting go of treasures. When the treasure is as nice as yours is… well, geez. I can’t imagine.
I’m going to follow you here because you seem to be a kindred spirit (living in an RV is also on my dream list) and because I just like your style, lady. Good luck in all your travels and know that I’ll be toasting you with your vodka this summer!
Lauren, thank you so much for saying hello! I signed the papers on the house today, which is certainly bittersweet, so your lovely message was very timely. Photos of my RV, Nellie, are here on the blog; check them out! I will be parked in front of my now prior home for about a week starting
June 17, loading in from the POD (yes, the new owners are that cool for not objecting!), so stop by for the penny tour and to say hello. I just might be able to offer you a cocktail.
I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to find out about you and your awesome strength and follow thru on your dreams! A retro camping buddy just sent me links to your gorgeous mid-century home and blog – and I must say, it is eerie that you are doing exactly what I am hoping to do in the next year or so. I have a mid-century house in Dallas, a mid-century furnished studio for work, and an Airstream. I am beyond exhausted by my 25 year freelance career, and want to lighten my load by at least 80% and roam the country and play. I have been dealing with some major health issues for the last several years – which I am getting a grip on – and I’m hoping the energy from feeling better will propel me into making the same changes you have. What was the final straw that did it for you? And are you a member of Sisters on the Fly? If not, please consider joining. There are more than 6000 of us across the country – and most have vintage trailers and styles – and are an AMAZING support network as you travel. Wishing you amazing adventures 🙂 Pinky (SOTF 2814)
Hello there Sister! I am Sister 1022. I am also a member of the Tin Can Tourists. My last straw was Crohn’s disease. The job was literally killing me. I was so sick for the last eight months before I ceased working that I knew a major change had to happen. The very best of luck to you as you embark upon your next chapter!